Regret
by hollandchels
Summary: EC. He was seeking time with the woman he loved she was seeking closure and one last memory. Both saw the answer in one act. They come together for one night. It all turns out to be a mistake, until they admit to each other what they’ve know all along.
1. Chapter 1

About: We present to you another phic by Holly and Chelsey. The same notes concerning background and characterizations apply to this phic as they did in our first, Backward Glances. The largest difference between the two is that in this phic, Raoul and Christine are "happily" married, Raoul being on his Northern Expedition at the beginning of the story. This phic is also much darker and, dare I say, sexier than the first. Chelsey took the characters of Erik and Madame Giry; Holly, Christine and Meg. Enjoy! (P.S. We plan on writing a sequel to this baby)

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Chapter One

Christine stood on the lawn of the deChangy estate, watching Raoul ride away in his carriage. He would not be back for a little over two years, for he would be on his northern expedition. Strangely, Christine did not feel her heart break as she watched him go, she did not even feel the slightest bit of sorrow. Marriage had not brought the happiness and bliss that she thought it would. It had not made her feel whole or complete. If anything, it had brought her guilt and remorse. Of course, she assumed that was customary if another was constantly on one's mind.

She thought back to their wedding night, Raoul had been so gentle and nervous. She wondered why whenever she had looked at Raoul as he made love to her, she had seen Erik's face. After they had finished, and she lay next to him, his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to him, he had told her he loved her. She had smiled, and kissed him, hoping that he wouldn't notice that, yet again, she had failed to return the sentiment; as much as she had wanted to, the words had never made it to her lips. Christine often had to convince herself that she did love him… But in her heart she knew it wasn't true. Sometimes, the guilt was too much for her, and she found herself wishing she would get ill and pass on; it would make things so much more bearable.

Raoul had desperately wanted children, and they had tried for a baby many times. She knew it broke his heart that she had never gotten pregnant, but secretly, each time that she had failed to conceive, she was relieved.

Christine was torn from her thoughts as she reached the front of the mansion; she pulled open the large door, and made her way to the master bedroom to get ready. She was going to visit Mme. Giry and Meg at the opera house that afternoon; she wanted to look her best. She applied some rouge to her cheeks and painted her lips, then brushed her dark curls until they shown. Christine selected a pale green gown from her wardrobe and dressed hurriedly. Exiting the room, she made her way down the stairs and out to the carriage that was waiting for her.

After a relatively short carriage ride into the city, Christine arrived at the Opera Populaire. She walked up the stairs to the opera house where Mme. Giry and Meg were waiting for her. She hugged them both, smiling genuinely for the first time in a while.

"It's so wonderful to see you both!"

"I trust you are happy with the vicomte, dear?" asked Mme. Giry, smiling at Christine slightly, breaking her usually austere demeanor.

"Yes, I am, we both are very happy," she lied, forcing a tight smile. Meg grasped both of her hands in hers.

"Oh, Christine, you look so beautiful!" her friend exclaimed. Christine's smile turned genuine.

"Thank you, you look fantastic yourself, Meg!"

Erik sat in the library, trying to focus on the novel he was reading, but it proved difficult. For the past months, he'd been doing his best to keep Christine from his thoughts. To his distaste, he'd failed miserably thus far. His mind kept replaying fragments from that night. When they were up on the stage, performing his opera. When he'd held her for the last time. Relentlessly he'd tried to shield himself from he memories, from his feelings, even though it was useless. She was the only love he'd ever had, and he knew he would not forget her easily. Still, he knew he must try.

Finally, not wanting to think about her any longer, he turned from the gate, sat at his organ, and began to play.

Later that evening, Christine sat next to Meg on her bed in the dormitories. "You know, Christine, no one has seen nor heard of the Phantom of the Opera since your departure… My mother and I believe that he has left the opera house." Christine's eyes grew wide with surprise.

"Really, Meg? I suppose that's good news then." Meg nodded solemnly.

"Well, I best be off. I suppose your mother has gone to bed; I would not want to keep you up, seeing as you have rehearsals tomorrow," she said, hugging her friend.

"Good bye, Christine, and do come and visit us again," Meg said as Christine rose from the bed and walked to the doorway. She turned back to Meg and smiled.

"Oh, I will, Meg; goodbye." She said, waving, before exiting the room. In truth, she wasn't planning on leaving, not yet at least. Christine made her way to the dressing room that she had used all those month ago, and pulled back the mirror. She would go to Erik's old home that night, for she had to put the ghosts of her past to rest.

She reached the shore of the lake, and departed from the gondola, her eyes scanning the lair as she absentmindedly fiddled with her wedding ring, they fell upon the organ, or the man sitting at the organ, and gasped.

Vaguely, Erik became aware of a presence behind him. He tore his gaze from his music and turned to find Christine Daae. He rose from the bench, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Christine." Many times before he'd said that word with such tenderness and love. Now, only a harsh coldness occupied his tone. He fell silent a moment, so spellbound he was by her sudden appearance. "What are you doing in my home?"

Her eyes widened, and she immediately looked down at the ground, trying to process what was going on.

"They…" she began, feeling frozen in her place. "They told me you had gone…"

"Who?" he asked sharply, his gaze on her intense.

"M-Meg... She said she and her mother had come to that conclusion..."

"Well, they were not correct, were they? What were you thinking, coming down here?" he asked quietly.

"I needed to put the past behind me... I thought that if I came down here things would be different and Raoul and I-" she cut herself off, not realizing how much she had said.

"You and the vicomte? What of you? I suspect your marriage is going along swimmingly."

"No... Marriage is not what I expected it would be."

"You expected it to be perfect," he stated. "You are so naîve, Christine." He reached out and traced the outline of her jaw.

Christine jerked her head back from his touch, turning from him. "I can remember when you welcomed my touch gladly," he said with a quiet, mirthless laugh. But he did not pull his hand away; instead, he moved his hand lower, stroking her neck and stepping closer to her.

She closed her eyes, feeling him gain power over her once more. Her mind screamed for her to make him stop, but her heart and body never wanted it to end. To her horror, she heard herself moan softly, desire beginning to consume her.

He smirked, moving his hand lower still to cup one of her breasts. She inhaled sharply, feeling a wetness form between her thighs. If  
he wished to take her, he would, and she was powerless to stop it, even if she wanted to. Raoul never even entered her thoughts as he touched her, for Erik had always been the one in her dreams.

His caresses were having the desired effect on her. He lowered his head and kissed her neck roughly, so that it would leave a mark. Christine felt all of her composure and restrain slipping away completely.

"Erik..." she moaned, her voice thick with a sudden lust that she had never felt so strongly before.**  
**  
He then turned abruptly from her. "Leave, Christine."

Her eyes shot open, feeling dazed. "Wuh... What?" She stuttered, blinking; trying to decipher what was going on.

"Leave. Why must you return and mock me?"

"Erik... Please... I didn't mean..."

"Damn it, Christine, do you not understand what I am telling you? Leave, now!"

A sudden feeling of fear replacing her desire as his anger grew, she turned and ran to the gondola, rowing herself quickly away from the shore. What had just happened? How could she do that to Raoul? To herself? Christine looked down at her wedding ring, and felt the guilt she had been feeling ever since she had married consume her once again. She looked back at the shore, feeling tears fall from her eyes, smearing her make up as they fell down her cheeks. She knew now that they had seen each other again, that he had touched her again, there was no chance -no chance at all- that she would ever be able to put her past behind her; that she would never be able to let the memory of him go.  
**  
**  
Erik turned from the lake sharply and walked to the bedroom; he picked up the decanter of brandy with sat near the bed and took a deep drink from it before letting himself fall to the bed. Why had she come back now, when he was trying so hard to forget her. The timing was damnable. When he was touching her, the lust and desire in her eyes had reflected his own feelings, making telling her to leave that much harder. But he knew that she could have stayed. He knew where that would have progressed to... He forced himself tostop brooding upon it, and eventually he fell into a fitful rest.

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Well, thank you for reading. If you like it, please review, and we'll have the next chapter up soon. 


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the interest. Apologies for the strange format; I'm working on it. And now, the second chapter!

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Chapter 2 

Weeks later, Christine found herself at the opera house once more to attend an opera. Since becoming vicomtess, she needed to keep up public appearances for Raoul's sake. Her hair was up in a bun, her makeup was done elaborately. She wore her red dress, a full, off the shoulder gown that she only wore on special occasions. Needing to get away from all of the women of the upper class, her class, that only cared about gossip and scandal, she had fled for a moment.She was now on the roof, where she and Raoul had shared their first kiss and gotten engaged.

Thinking back on that night, she felt the guilt that she had been pushing away return, remembering the most recent time she had gone to the opera house.

Despite the warm May air, she felt a chill rack her body, as her thoughts switched to Erik... The way he had looked at her, the way he had touched her... Christine knew that everything about that evening had been wrong, but if Erik hadn't have told her to leave, it would have led up to everything she had been secretly dreaming of since she had left, and how quickly she had welcomed the idea scared her to death.

Erik, of course, had been aware of her presence since the opera began. He had spotted her from his box; how could he not? She looked so damnably beautiful. Naturally he'd followed her when he noticed that she was heading for the roof. He watched from behind a statue as she gazed on Paris below, noticing that her bun slightly looser than previously. He cursed himself for studying her so closely.

  
  
Christine walked over to the edge of the roof, looking down at the people bustling around the busy Paris streets. She took her bun down, letting her long curls fall down her back. As she often did when she was upset, she began to fiddle with her wedding ring. She pursed her lips, messing her lipstick slightly; she then licked them, another nervous habit of hers. She cursed herself for doing so, seeingas she would eventually have to go back down and socialize, and she wanted to remain presentable.

He watched her intently, knowing he was a damned fool for feeling the way he did. He nearly stepped from behind the statue, to reveal himself to her. To kiss her lips once more, and to take her. But he stopped himself, trying to be content with just watching, as he had been doing all his life.

"No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy... No dreams within her heart but dreams of love..." Christine sang. Where did that come from? she thought, surprised from her actions. She had not sung since the night she had left, whenever she had sang one pitch Raoul had stopped her, saying it conjured up too many memories...

Erik listened, amazed, as her perfect, pure voice sang out a line from his opera. That particular line did nothing to help his current situation. Despite what his mind told him to do, he found his legs carrying him toward her. He reached his arms out, encircling her and pulling her roughly against him.

Before Christine could register what was happening, she found herself pressed against him, his arms around her.

"Erik... What are you doing?" she asked, looking up at him, trying to remain calm. He made no reply as he began to allow his hands to explore her body. His breathing was becoming more and more shallow; _Stop!_ his mind screamed at him _You fool! Get away, now!_ But he ignored it. Only one thing mattered at the moment.

Christine closed her eyes, feeling her desire overpower her mind once again, her breaths became quick and short as he touched her. Involuntarily, a moan escaped from her lips; she resisted the urge to cry out and beg him to take her.

One hand rested on her breast, the other on her hip. She leaned her head back, resting it on his shoulder. He took advantage of the opportunity by kissing her neck hungrily, only encouraged by her lustful sounds.

She felt a wetness between her thighs once more as she leaned into him, the kisses he left on her neck becoming more intense. "Oh, God..." she said, the words coming out as more of a moan than a sentence, in a voice thick with passion that didn't sound like hers at all.

He cupped her breast harder in his hand as he moved his lips up her neck, until they covered hers. He kissed her in a way he never had before; it was much different from the kiss they'd shared on that night. Guided by instinct, he slide his tongue into her mouth, subconsciously deciding to wait for her reaction before continuing.

Christine met his tongue with hers. This was something she and Raoul had never done. Raoul. Her husband. Right... She was married. Oh, she couldn't do this! Yet... She couldn't stop. She had wanted this for too long to stop.

He moaned as the most delightful feeling overtook him, entwining his tongue with hers and sliding his left hand up her body so it too rested on one of her breasts. She turned in his arms, so she was facing him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him, their kiss growing even more passionate. Raoul had left her thoughts completely. Now it was only him. Only Erik.

Erik could hardly believe what was happening; it was so surreal. Many nights he'd dreamed of this moment... Never had it been so intense or passionate. He'd never before felt what he was feeling now. His hands found her hips again, and he pulled her closer to his body, if that was possible (despite his apparent arousal).

Christine broke the kiss, needing to breathe. She couldn't believe this was real; that it was happening... That she was letting it. She took deep, uneven breaths, her hot breath against his neck. He gazed on her, her lips slightly swollen, her cheeks flushed, and her hair disheveled.

"Christine, you must leave... They'll be looking for you," he said bitterly. In the midst of it all, thoughts of the vicomte entered his mind (perhaps given the setting of the rendezvous). _Damn him!_ he thought, _We could have been so happy together... But never mind __happiness... It is too late for that_. He parted from her embrace.

Christine couldn't believe he was doing this to her again... She was too far gone to leave now; she shook her head. "No," she said simply, leaning up and capturing his lips with hers once again. He allowed himself to indulge in her kiss before pulling apart from her again.

"Christine, you are married. To the vicomte," he added resentfully. "I will not have you when I know that you belong to another." He turned from her.

"I do not love him..." Christine said breathlessly, feeling a desperate need for Erik take over.

"Of course you do. You went away with him," he said flatly. He paused a moment. "Go now Christine, go and gossip with the other fine ladies of your newfound class. I'm sure you will have a lovely time," he said cruelly.

"I will go, but do not think that I enjoy the company of the other trophy wives, Erik... And do not think that I love him... I don't believe in love anymore." With that, Christine turned and left. Those last words that had escaped her lips... She didn't even know if she thought them to be true or not.

He watched her go, mildly puzzled by her parting words. He'd known that she would not enjoy the life of a noblewoman; what troubled him were her last words. He had no idea what to make of them, or if she really meant what she said. For most of his life, he'd agreed with that statement. That was before he had met Christine. He stayed up on the rooftop for a good while longer, watching the city below  
him as all the theatergoers returned to their homes. When the last of them had filed out, he began his descent to his own home, many feet  
below.

After leaving the rooftop, Christine had not gone back to the after party to socialize. She had gone there to get a drink. Well… Two drinks. Three at the most. She had drank them down relatively quickly, the desired affect put into action rather soon afterward, which she assumed was because she rarely drank alcohol. Christine was by no means drunk, she knew that much; the alcohol had only eased her troubles a bit, had only relaxed her. Thankfully, none of her upper class "friends" noticed her in the subdued corner, finishing off her glass of wine… Or was it whiskey? She couldn't remember… She had grabbed whatever she had come across first, for she had needed a drink badly.

Slowly, a steady trickle of people began to exit the opera house, and she followed, but she found her feet carrying her, not in the direction of the doorway, but to the dressing room, and through the mirror. For some strange reason, she wanted him -needed him- right then more than ever. The drinks she had just consumed had given her the confidence to pursue her need; that had been the whole point in drinking them after all.

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Thanks again, and please review! 


	3. Chapter 3

Hello all, Chelsey here. Thank you so much for all the reviews... We hardly expected such praise insuch a little amount of time. Lady Willow: Thank you so much for the offer, and the advice. We're honored by your proposition, as we are reading your story (One Love, One Lifetime), and we love it. Perhaps we can dicuss story ideas sometime soon. 

And now, without further ado, Chapter 3

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Chapter 3 

Erik lie on his bed, a book in hands. Anything to keep his mind from thoughts of Christine. He wore shirtsleeves, trousers, and a robe, his mask still on his face. Christine silently rowed the gondola to the shore; stumbling a little when she exited it. Perhaps she had had more to drink than she thought. She tripped again, steadying herself by grasping the wall. "Shit," she cursed, her voice barely above a whisper, but she knew that Erik would hear her.

This was not how she had planned things. In her mind, she had pictured herself seducing him... Christine laughed out loud in spite of herself at the thought._ Since when have you been seductive; you're only but a girl. She covered her mouth to stifle her laugh. This is definitely not going as _planned...

Erik heard sounds from an unknown source outside of the bedroom. There were a selective few who knew where his home lie and still lived to remember it; that left few options for who would be invading it now. He rose from the bed, leaving the book face down on it, and walked through the threshold to find Christine staggering around blindly at the foot of the stairs.

"Christine, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I've come to finish what you started up on the roof tonight..." she said. Although her actions were being affected by the consumption of alcohol, her mind was still clear. And she knew what she wanted. She looked up at him, and cursed the desire that filled her body from head to toe once again.

"You have been drinking," he stated, hiding his slight amusement at her condition. "I have no use for childish, intoxicated women who do not know what they want."

"I am not a child, I am not drunk, and I know what I fucking want! Do you know how long I've waited? Do you, Erik? You think me some common snob of a trophy wife that just wants a little fun while her husband is away... You think me one of them... You still see me as an innocent... I am not a damn little girl anymore, Erik! I was raped of my innocence quite some time ago." Anger that Christine had been holding back for so long surfaced, and she spit her words out as if they were poison.

He stared at her. Certainly, she had grown up much since he had tutored her. But that changed little. She was still married to the vicomte: she was his wife... She was his. She did not want him.

He turned from her. "Leave me."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic!" Christine hissed; she would not let him take this away from her...

Not after she had come so close. She made her way up the stairs, standing in front of him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and stood on her tiptoes, leaning up, kissing him hard on the mouth with all the pent up passion inside of her.

His resistance was destroyed with her kiss. He'dnever imagined that she could initiate a kiss with  
such desire, such passion, such longing. The embrace lasted a long while; he pulled apart from her and gazed into her eyes, silently questioning her.

She nodded slightly, looking up at him. "I know what I want," she said breathlessly, her hands still gripping his shoulders; she felt if she let go, he would simply disappear, just as he always had in her dreams. Lust was overtaking Erik; he did not enjoy the sensation, not given the current circumstances. He looked away from her, his conflicting thoughts overtaking his mind.

"Please... Don't make me wait any longer..." she whispered, then added even more quietly, "I need you..."

He turned his head back to look at her, her last words lingering in his thoughts, making him forget all doubt, for now. He leaned his head in and kissed her lips, his kiss filled with incredible lust. His hand made its way to her breast, cupping it gently. Christine moaned softly, and placed her hands on his, forcing him to grasp her breast harder. He was mildly surprised by her bold actions. But nonetheless, he enjoyed it.

"Christine," he whispered softly, desire evident in his tone. He turned and nodded for her to walk in front of him to the bedroom; he followed close behind. When then reached the room, he placed his hands on her hips and drew her flush against him, his desire pressing into her thigh. He gazed into her eyes a moment, hoping that she knew what she getting herself into, before kissing her again,  
his tongue seeking and gaining entrance to her mouth.

Christine wrapped her arms around his waist; she walked backwards towards the bed, taking him with her. Never breaking the kiss, she fell backwards onto the bed, with Erik on top of her. Her curls sprawled out all around her; she finally broke the kiss, needing to breathe. Erik took hold of the laces on the front of her dress and began to loosen them. He kissed the area below her neck which was not covered by her corset as he pushed the dress off her. She let out a small gasp, kicking the gown to the floor. Christine hurriedly untucked his shirtsleeves, pulling them off of him and dropping them to the floor. She brought her hands to his chest as she kissed his neck with longing.

His breathing grew shallow at the feeling of her small hands on his bare chest. He turned her roughly, so she was lying on her belly, and began to undo her tight corset, kissing her neck and shoulders desirously as he did.

She hadn't realized how tight her chamber maid must have laced her corset until it was off; she could actually breathe. Christine found herself drawing deep breaths as he finished unlacing her corset. Everything was going so fast... Faster than it had ever gone with Raoul. _Oh, God... Him. I can't do this. And yet, she didn't want to stop; she knew that even if she tried to tell Erik no, he wouldn't listen._ She wanted this more than anything, anyway... She needed it with every ounce of her being. Not until this night had she felt so alive.

He threw the corset to the ground, leaving her only in her thin chemise. He turned her onto her back again, tracing circles on her nipples over the fabric as he kissed her lips passionately. She grasped his strong shoulders with her hands once again, and wrapped her legs around his waist with need. His kiss was so deep that it made her swollen lips ache; she moaned softly into the kiss.

He rolled away from her in order to loosen his belt. He looked up at her, her face displaying disappointment. He laughed softly at her dismay. Even being parted from him for those few seconds felt like an eternity. Christine knew she couldn't hold out much longer... Not with how he was making her feel. She fell back against the pillows, her breath coming out in short, shallow gasps.

She could still taste the whiskey on her breath from the end of the gala, but the affects of the alcohol was unfortunately wearing off little by little. He tossed his trousers to the ground, sighing quietly in relief. Looking into her eyes, he whispered, "Christine, touch me..."

Realization that this was actually happening finally hit her. Her eyes grew wide. "No," she said,

rolling turning away from him. "I can't do this... I can't..." Christine rose from the bed, her back to him.

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Please don't hate us for that one! It will be better (eventually). Please review. 


	4. Chapter 4

Hello again. Chelsey here. You guys are going to hate us for this... But we promise if you review it will be better (eventually). Thank

you for the reviews, we really appreciate them. And now, Chapter 4.

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Chapter 4**  
**  
He stared at her in angry disbelief. "Why did I believe you? I knew that you would just hurt me again. You... How could you? You are indecisive, you know nothing of your desires." He was shouting by now; he rose from the bed, drawing his discarded robe around him. "I shall tell you this for the final time: leave. Do not come back into my life again."

"I am not indecisive!" she shouted back, turning to face him, her hands balled into angry fists.

"The hell you are not! You tell me you know what you want, that you wanted me. And now look at what you are doing! Turning away!"

"I do want you!"

"Your actions would suggest otherwise," he said, regaining his composure somewhat.

Christine threw her arms up in contempt, anger still burning in her eyes. She didn't know what to say... In truth, she was scared out of her mind, but she wasn't going to let him know that. He turned from her.

"Leave my home," he ordered quietly.

"You don't mean that..."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You just... You just don't."

"Of course I do. Why would I want you now? Leave." In truth, he of course didn't wish for her to leave, but knew that her actions and "desires" were simply alcohol induced; he was a fool for ever believing otherwise. "Do not doubt what I say. Never have I said something that I did not mean," he added after a slight pause.

"No. I am not leaving," Christine said firmly. She would not lose something she had longed for all this time just because of her stupid actions... She would not lose the chance to be with him... Not again.

"Why?"

"Are you sure you haven't?"

"Sure I haven't what?" he asked impatiently.

"Said anything that you did not mean."

"Quite sure."

Christine looked down at the floor, remembering what he had told her that night... The night she had left with Raoul. She had put the diamond ring in his hand... He had told her he loved her. He had meant it then, she knew that... But now? She couldn't be so sure. Suddenly, she felt completely vulnerable and naked in her thin chemise. Erik kept his eyes on her, vaguely aware that she was beginning to squirm under his intense stare.

"You told me that you loved me when I left... You might still; I can't tell... But like I said before, I don't believe in love anymore..." Still looking at the floor, Christine gathered her dress and corset from off of it. She had not meant to give up, but conjuring up those memories... She hadn't meant to get emotionally involved... As much as she hated to admit it, she had just wanted his body this night... Nothing more; she knew that he probably felt the same. But the idea of Erik still being in love with her had made everything too real, and Christine didn't think that she could face that reality. Her thoughts turned to Raoul...she had been in love with him, or so she thought, but for some reason her feelings had changed; she had thought love was supposed to be forever, but hers for her husband had not been and that had led Christine to question whether love existed at all.**  
**  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He was having a difficult time understanding why she was being so morbid; it was completely unlike her. It wasn't as if she had been deprived of love for a whole Godforsaken lifetime. She had a husband who loved her, friends... What more did she need?

Christine shrugged, finally looking up at him, as she retrieved her corset from the floor. "It's not that difficult to comprehend... I just don't  
think there's any such thing as love... Simple as that."

"I'm sure you would know," he said coldly.

"Why is it so hard to believe that I do?" she asked, her anger surfacing once again; Christine glared at him... She was sick and tired of people looking down on her just because she was young, or the vicomtess, or believed her to be nothing but a trophy wife... A gold digger.

"Christine, forgive me for asking, " he began, sarcastically, "but what do you know of being deprived of love? In a romantic sense, to be exact. You are married, after all; you have not forgotten already, have you, dear?"

Christine gaped at him, her mouth dropping open. She closed her eyes, trying to remain calm, she felt as though she would lunge at him and attempt to murder him, or burst into tears. Christine had gotten quite skilled at hiding her feelings though, over the past few months especially, but this was proving to be a challenge. She swallowed a little too loudly before opening her eyes once again.

"Do not mock me, Erik," she said, in a dangerously low voice.

"Leave then. You have at least gotten a part of what you wanted. That should hold you for a while." He could hardly believe he was saying such contemptuous things to the woman he loved, but she had driven him here.

With that, something in Christine snapped. She walked over to him and slapped him across the face.

"How dare you!" she said, her voice shaking with anger... as well as some other emotions she couldn't put her finger on.

He stared at her a moment before speaking, to himself as much as to her. "I see you've acquired some gumption. Quite impressive. However, if you do not leave, I very well may do things that we will both come to regret once they've passed; I advise you to leave now," he said, hiding his considerable anger.

She shook her head, and gave a laugh that held no joy or amusement--only anger and pain. "You wouldn't dare do anything of the sort..."

He too let out a mirthless laugh. "You have absolutely no idea. You haven't the faintest idea of what I am capable of. Do not force me to show you." In truth, she was correct. These were all empty threats; he would never harm her, even with how much she had angered and hurt him.

Christine rolled her eyes. "I don't believe you."

"Damn it, Christine, just leave. There is no reason for you to stay."

Christine remained in her place. She did not want him to think she was fazed by his bluffs, although he was starting to frighten her a bit; she knew that she was a more than a little over her head.

"You are bluffing... You would not lay a hand on me."

"I wouldn't venture to say that..." he said with a smirk. He paused, then said, "Christine, I don't know what you are seeking. You won't take my body, you obviously don't want my company, and yet you won't leave me. What are you in search of? You turned away when we were so close," he continued. "I figure that is what you wanted, so why did you relinquish it, when it was nearly yours?"

Christine looked away from him. "It was too real..." she said, her voice suddenly becoming quiet. That was the truth; all of her dreams... He had been in them, and they were just that... Dreams. When it was finally happening, she felt the need to run from it... Her dreams coming true... That was what scared her.

"I am unsure of what else you expected."

She said nothing... Just bit her lip and kept her eyes cast downwards. It was amazing how easily he could turn her emotions upside down. Mere minutes ago, she had been furious with him, now she felt vulnerable; like such a child. Moments before she had slapped him; now she could not even meet his eyes. Once again she became aware of how thin the fabric of her chemise was; she was virtually naked before him.

"I suppose I shall retire now. Do what you wish," he said, defeatedly, not knowing what else he could say to her.

"Right... Right, okay... I'll just... Go," Christine muttered, suddenly feeling embarrassed... She quickly put threw on her dress, not even bothering to but on her corset or lace up the front. She exited the room quickly, before her cheeks could get too flushed. She needed a drink, but Raoul didn't keep liquor at home... But God, she needed a drink badly.

Erik watched her a moment, mulling their strange evening over, before she disappeared from his site. He turned, snuffed the candle out, undressed, lie down on the bed, and closed his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey, everyone, Chels here; sorry for the wait. Here is Chapter 5.Enjoy!

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Chapter 5 

To her surprise, Christine found herself in Erik's kitchen, and somehow she had found a way into his liquor cabinet. She held a bottle of scotch in her hand; she coughed every time she took a sip. It was strong... A lot stronger than anything she had ever drank, and before she knew it, she had regained that feeling of warmth and relaxation she had obtained earlier that night. Christine felt a sudden burst of confidence, and with Erik in bed just a few steps away, she knew she wouldn't be able to just leave.

Christine stood just outside his bedroom, trying to contemplate whether she really wanted to do what she was about to... Whether it was the right choice to make... _Hell, of course it is_, Christine thought... Maybe it was the alcohol thinking for her, but she didn't care either way anymore. She made to walk into the bedroom, but felt herself stumble once more. _I really need to learn to hold my liquor..._ she thought; finding it quite humorous, she let out a tiny giggle.

Erik lie on his side, brooding upon the evening he'd shared with Christine. It was among the strangest in his lifetime. What had she wanted from him? He'd offered her sex, willingly, and she'd rejected it. What else was there that he had to give? He knew he would not get much sleep this night; his mind was full of too many unanswered questions. He made a feeble attempt to force himself to relax; upon its failure, he took a swig of brandy from his decanter near the bed. Even through the slight haze, he became aware of a person lurking outside of the bedroom.

Gathering her thoughts, Christine ascended the stairs to his bedroom. She stood there for a few moments before speaking. "Erik..."

"Yes, Christine, I know you are there."

This whole thing felt like an out of body experience to her. It seemed as though she was watching from above as she walked over to the bed where Erik lay. She bent down and kissed him lustfully, before she could do anything to stop herself.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, although not as sharply as he'd intended.

"Trying to finish what I stopped..." she said, bending down and kissing him again... She could smell the brandy on his breath– almost taste it.

"Now you want to?" he asked incredulously.

"I've wanted to this whole time."

He did not bother asking why she had stopped earlier; it no longer mattered. He pulled her down on top of him, kissing her lips, histongue slipping between them. He knew that she probably was only here for the reason he'd guessed earlier, but that did not mattereither. He loved her, and wanted to have her any way he could, despite he circumstances.

"You're drunk again," he muttered into the kiss.

"No, I'm not," she murmured back, slipping off her still unlaced dress, not breaking the kiss.

"Christine, do not lie. I can tell," he said, watching her as she maneuvered the dress off herself.

She rolled her eyes. "I may have had a drink, but I am most certainly not drunk... And you had a drink yourself, anyway," she said, asshe dropped her dress to the floor.

"I am much more used to alcohol than you are; it would have a much more profound effect on you than me," he explained patiently asshe freed herself from her dress.

"Does it even matter?" she asked, growing tired of the constant talking, she leaned down and kissed him again, slipping her tongue intohis mouth.

"It does indeed matter," he replied, breaking the kiss. "I have no desire to take advantage of you unfairly."

"You're not," Christine stated simply, leaning down and trying to capture his lips once more. He allowed her to, passably satisfied withher answer. He kissed her passionately, his hands going to her back, which was covered in the soft fabric of the chemise. He moanedquietly as she pressed her hips to his slightly.

As Christine kissed him, nothing else in the whole world seemed to matter. It did not matter that she had a husband far off in the northwho desperately loved her, it did not matter that she was breaking every moral code in society, it did not matter what her gossipingpeers would say about her behind her back once they started to suspect something was amiss. None of it mattered. All that mattered that she was finally there; that she was finally with him. After months of longing, of dreaming, of waiting, it was finally happening. She knew that neither of their intentions were very pure; that it might turn out to be the biggest mistake of her life once everything was said and done. But as he kissed her, his strong arms around her back, she knew that it was right. She knew that this was finally her chance to live, and not wonder for the rest of her life what might have been if she had taken that chance.

Eventually, their kiss broke, and between deep breaths; Christine kissed his neck with a need that she had never felt for anyone else before. She began to undo the buttons of his nightshirt, and she moaned as he moved his hands to her tender breasts. Pausing fromfumbling with the buttons, she closed her eyes and sat up. Grasping at the bottom of her chemise, she pulled it up over her head and off of her in one sweeping motion. Her breathing somewhat labored, she opened her eyes as she dropped the chemise to the floor with her dress.

Erik gazed up at Christine as he sat above him. He could hardly believe how beautiful she was. Abruptly he realized that she was still waiting for him; he proceeded to unbutton his night shirt; he pushed it back to his shoulders, revealing his chest once more. Christine then rolled off of him, laying on her back, waiting for him. He pulled the nightshirt off himself and tossed it to the ground. He rolled atop her.

She leaned up and kissed him, then reached her hand down and held his length in her hand, her breath shaky and hot against his neck. She had never touched Raoul this way... She had never even gazed into his eyes when he made love to her; they both always had their eyes squeezed shut. She moaned softly. He was definitely longer than Raoul... That was for certain, and he measure up to everything she had envisioned in her dreams... Quite possibly more. She closed her eyes; her heart felt like it would escape her chest at any moment due to it's heightening pace.

He too moaned, though more loudly at the feeling of her small, feminine hands on his member. He'd never known her to be this way; he adored her when she was dark just as much as he adored her when she was a young, innocent girl. The pleasure was so intense; he felt as if his head was spinning.

"Christine..." he whispered, shutting his eyes against the delirium. Christine couldn't take it anymore, the mere sound of her name against his lips made her need him so badly it was almost painful. With that, she guided him into her, inhaling sharply as she did so. She then brought her arms around his neck, kissing him wherever she could... This is it, she thought, it's really happening.

He bent his head down and kissed her breasts, drawing the erect nipples into his mouth as he picked up speed. He could hardly fathom the sensations that were coursing through him. Christine cried out in passion, moving her hands to the small of his back, driving him deeper and deeper into her as they moved together. With one last thrust, his release came. He'd never in his wildest dreams imagined that he'd ever feel this way with any woman, let alone the one beneath him. He cried out loudly as he shut his eyes and he collapsed, his head resting her breasts.

Christine too felt a loud moan rack her body then felt herself go limp. She closed her eyes, and drew deep steady breaths. She still couldn't believe what had just happened... She actually felt... Happy, if only for an instant. She rubbed his back absentmindedly as she reflected upon what had just happened.

Strangely, her tender, thoughtless caress meant just as much to him than what they had just shared, perhaps even more. His deep breaths now matched hers, and he laid there a few moments more before pulling out and rolling off her. He settled back against the pillows and drew the sheet over him.

Christine turned so she was lying on her stomach, and drew the sheet over her as well, though her back was still very much exposed. She ran her fingers through her messed hair, unable to find anything to say to Erik... It had been everything she had hoped it to be, but yet she found a strange yearning for something more.

He found her hand under the covers and held it in his, squeezing it gently a moment, before pulling away abruptly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight..." Christine whispered, finding it hard to work her voice... That single gesture had made her feel something that she couldn't put her finger on, and she wondered why it felt so much better than the sex.

As he lie there trying to fall asleep, he fought the desire to cradle Christine to him and kiss her cheek, falling asleep with her in his arms. But he knew that could never be. Shortly afterwards, he fell into a deep sleep, the warmth of Christine next to him a constant comfort to him.

Long after he had driftedto sleep, Christine lay there. Tears had begun to fall from her eyes and she didn't even know why... She assumed that she cried for Raoul... For how she had betrayed him... But most of all she came to the conclusion that she was crying for herself. Christine was the only person that she seemed to care about nowadays. Ever since becoming a noblewoman, she had just felt so empty and alone; she had thought that a night of passion with Erik would make her feel like she was alive again.

She had thought it would fill her with joy, but now as she lay next to him in bed, she felt more alone than she had before... Christine cursed herself for ever allowing herself to do such a thing, to be such a fool to think that this would cure all of her problems, when it had only conjured up new ones and rekindled the old.

It was far too late for her to run back to her estate now; she knew that when she waltzed back there in the morning, her hair a mess, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed... Probably small bruises upon her body as well... That they would know. All she could do was pray that they wouldn't tell Raoul... That he wouldn't figure it out... And what the hell would she do if she ran into Mme. Giry or Meg in the morning. After hours upon hours of such thoughts running their course in her head, she fell into a restless sleep. No longer did Erik occupy her dreams; all she could see was Raoul's face... He was the one that would haunt her now.

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Please review, and we'll put more up soon. 


	6. Chapter 6

Hi everyone, Chels here. Thank you so much for the reviews; we really appreciate them. 

Ethalas Tuath'an and Mz.Kelsi: Don't worry. winkwink  
Erik forPresident: First of all, I love the pen name. Second of all, I'm not sure if that was positive  
or negative, but either way thank you for the review.  
One more note before we get on with the chapter: I've changed the format a bit. Hope it helps.

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Chapter 6 

Hours later, Christine woke. _Where the hell am I? And what in God's  
name happened to my clothes?_ she thought, realizing that she was on  
her stomach, naked, a mere sheet covering only her ass. The rest of  
her, to Christine's horror, was absolutely exposed. Her hair was  
sprawled out around her messily, her lips were terribly swollen, and  
she had a dull ache between her thighs.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, finding herself beneath the opera house.  
So it wasn't a dream? _What the have I done!_ her mind screamed at her.  
She turned her head, just to make sure he was there. He was.  
Christine couldn't say anything? She couldn't even make a move to cover  
herself. She was just too shocked that it had actually happened.

Erik slowly opened his eyes, an unfamiliar, yet comforting warmth next  
to him. He turned on his side so he faced her. "Good morning," he said  
quietly. Christine's eyes widened; it was all turning out so real.  
Finally, she found her voice.

"Good morning..." she said softly, still feeling frozen to her spot.  
After a few minutes, she became increasingly aware of her nakedness,  
and she grasped the sheet, pulling it over her, covering her once  
exposed skin.

Vaguely, he felt a small amount of hurt at her actions. Not  
disappointment, but hurt. He quickly brushed it off as he turned and  
sat up on the edge of the bed. "I suppose you'd best be getting home  
soon."

Christine blinked. Right. Home. She had an estate. She had a  
husband. She was viscomtess. She had servants. Servants that would  
talk and gossip just as badly as the other noblewomen did.  
She nodded; all she could utter was "Yes."

"Your clothing is on the ground," he prompted quietly.

She sat up, turned so that she was on her back and sat up, clutching  
the sheet to her chest. She closed her eyes, and mumbled, "Right...  
My... clothing." She knew she was acting like a bit of a loon, but  
this whole situation seemed crazy to her.

Christine turned so she was on the edge of the bed, her bare back facing him, as she leaned down  
and picked up her chemise from the floor, pulling it over her head.

None of this felt right to Erik... After such a night, based on what  
he'd always read, and believed, they should stay in each others arms  
for many hours, talking quietly, kissing each other gently and  
exchanging I love yous. But of course, she didn't love him.  
At the absence of it all he felt an overwhelming sadness... He doubted  
very much that this was how it was supposed to be.

He turned to Christine who was now stepping back into her dress. "Is there any way I  
can assist you?" he asked.

She looked over at him, pain shooting through her... It was her fault  
all this had happened; it was turning out to be one big mistake. She  
shook her head as she laced the bodice of her dress. "No thank you..."  
she said, trying to keep her voice from braking. She didn't know why  
she felt this way... She had gotten everything she had wanted;  
everything she expected, so why did she feel so empty?

"Alright..." he replied quietly. Once she'd finished dressing, he  
asked, "Do you need me to row the gondola for you?"

She licked her lips absentmindedly, feeling how cursedly swollen they  
were. "If you would please..." she replied, casting her eyes downward.  
This was definitely not how she was supposed to feel after succeeding  
in getting exactly what she wanted... It was all wrong.

He nodded, and rose from the bed, picking up his discarded robe and trousers. He  
pulled the clothing on and walked out to the gondola, she following  
close behind. After helping her in, as a formality, he began to row the  
boat.

Neither one of them said anything as Erik rowed to the shore;  
once they reached it, he helped her out, and she wondered why it was  
that she suddenly couldn't meet his eyes.  
The silence that followed as they ascended the staircase was  
deafening.

Finally, they reached the mirror. "Goodbye, Christine," he  
said softly, hardly expecting for her to ever return. She would be  
leaving him for the second time. The first time had been hard enough,  
but at least it had had a reasonable amount of closure. This time, he  
would be left wondering about her; this emptiness would never leave  
him. This hunger for something more would always be present.

She knew in her heart that they would never meet again; that she would  
have exactly what she wanted for all of eternity... His body... The  
memory of what it had been like to be with him. That was all she had  
wanted, but now that she had gotten it, it just didn't seem to fit...  
It didn't seem to give her the closure that she had been searching for;  
it wouldn't keep her warm at night.

Making love--no, having sex--with  
Erik had only resulted negatively. She had betrayed her husband, she  
had managed to break Erik's heart, and crush her very soul all in one  
night. She longed for him to hold her close, to tell her he loved  
her... To tell her she was a good person, but knew that that would most  
certainly always be a dream. She took a deep breath and swallowed the  
lump in her throat, blinking back the tears in her eyes.

"Goodbye, Erik," and with that, she turned and exited through the  
mirror, tears streaming from her face as soon as she was out of his  
sight.

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Please review for us to post more. Thanks. :) 


	7. Chapter 7

Hi, Chels here. A big thank you to our loyal reviewers; you motivate us :) Don't worry about E and C falling in love-- we promise not to dissapoint. wink wink But for now, please prepare yourself for some angst and, for lack of better word, meaness. But don't worry. All will be well (eventually). Enjoy the chap.

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Chapter 7

About two months after that faithful night, Christine was at the opera house once more, for a masquerade. She was not only going to make a social appearance, she was going because she needed to see Erik… She needed to tell him something.

As she stood on the edge of the dance floor in a white, modest gown, she looked pure… Virginal almost. It was the look she had been going for since she needed to play the role of the loyal wife who couldn't stand being away from her husband. After the glances cast her way by the other trophy wives (followed by whispers to their comrades) died down, she slipped away from the gala, making her way into the dressing room and threw the mirror. Christine needed to tell Erik that she was pregnant. That she was carrying a child that was not her husband's. That she was carrying a child that was his own.

Ever since Christine had began to sport a bump, she had taken to wearing dresses that were fitted around the bodice, but loose and flowing from below her breasts downward. When she had found out she was pregnant, she had cried for days on end. It would have been so easy to force herself to miscarry. She thought of it every time she went near stairs… Or took a bath. It would have been so easy to miss a step, or slip while getting in or out of the tub, but each time she pushed the thought of it away. Now, as she found herself rowing the gondola to the shore, Erik on the other side of the lake, gazing at her intently, she wondered if she could possibly want this baby… Even love it? As each day passed, she found that the idea was easier and easier to fathom. Raoul's letters had not helped matters either. He sent her letters constantly… Saying how he couldn't wait to come home; how much he loved her… How much he missed her lying next to him at night. Thankfully, she was never able to respond, for he was constantly on the move.

Erik lie on his bed, idle. He'd spent many of his days this way of late; the gnawing emptiness inside him had only grown since that night. Each day he wondered if she was getting along well... If she ever thought of him, and that final night which always occupied his thoughts. He hoped she had found what she was looking for, for he certainly had not. He had decided to go along with the deed on the assumption that it would bring them closer together... Maybe even bring her to love him. But it had backfired by building a seemingly unbridgeable distance between them.

Christine refused to go to a doctor. She refused to go to a midwife. She rarely went out in public, and no one would know about her pregnancy for as long as she could help it… No one except Erik, that is. Raoul would not even know… Especially not him. Christine often found herself lying awake at night, wondering what would come of her once Raoul returned 22 months later…Would he leave her? Would she leave him? And what of Erik? Would he stay by her side through all of this… Or would he leave her and their baby alone? Her social status was doomed already, she knew. The other women thought her a whore and a slut even now, when they knew nothing… No telling what they would say behind closed doors once she started to show. Then her mind always wandered to the delivery. Who would deliver her baby? Maybe Erik; maybe she would do it herself… She had no idea.

Outside the room, Erik heard the sound of rippling water in the lake beyond. Slowly, he rose from the bed and walked towards the water. He was spellbound to see Christine rowing the gondola toward him. She passed under the gate, which he had not bothered to close since she left. The boat reached the shore; he, being a gentleman, rushed to it to help her disembark.

When she had gone over telling him over and over in her mind, she had always remained calm, but as she exited the gondola, she found herself lunging at him, beating her small fists upon his chest. "You bastard!" she heard herself begin to scream. "You filthy bastard! It wasn't enough that you took me, that I betrayed my husband, but this! Of course this happened of course! But why, Erik? Why did you do this to me!" And to her horror, she began to sob. She cried tears she had been holding inside ever since she had first left the Opera Populaire. Christine could not stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks. She was standing so close to Erik that she could see his chest rising and falling as he look each breath. She closed her eyes, her tears falling at full force. "Why…? Why!" He must think I've gone insane…she thought.

Erik stared at her, at total loss for words. Finally, he spoke. "Christine. What the hell are you talking about?" He said this very slowly and deliberately.

Christine wiped the tears from her eyes, but more escaped as she did so. She looked down at the ground and mumbled very softly, "I'm pregnant."

"Why was it urgent for me to know of this?" he asked, utterly confused, which was not a position he enjoyed being in.

She looked up at him then, her eyebrows raised, with a look of disgust on her face. "I knew you would react this way... This is not a game, Erik."

"Pardon me?" Realization was beginning to dawn on him, but it was so surreal, he hardly could be believe it. He needed to hear the words from her mouth.

"You do remember when we had sex, do you not?" she asked incredulously, her tone bitter.

"Of course I do," he replied coldly. "I'll have you know, I was not with child then." Of course he knew what the circumstances here; there was no doubt of them now. His head was spinning; there was feeling far too many emotions at once.

He turned to her again, and snapped bitterly, "Christine, just say it. Or is the very idea too horrible for you to voice?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Why can't you just say it? Speak the truth, dearest. Let me hear it!"

She closed her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. "The baby is yours, Erik."

"Wonderful job, Christine. I suspect you'll have to tell that to your husband eventually... There should be no secrets in a marriage, you know. Unless, of course, you plan on miscarrying. Yes, that would be the ideal solution, would it not? Murder the monster's child, recover in time for the vicomte's return. No one would ever know; everyone wins."

Christine gaped at him, her eyes wide; she was speechless. Hot tears of anger stung in her eyes; she just stood there, staring up at him, unable to string words together.

"So you haven't decided yet? Well, I relinquish all decisions to you, since you have made such wise ones in the past."

"You really think that I would do that?" Christine asked, her voice rising.

"Do not tell me you have not considered it." Christine said nothing, hanging her head. She had, but she knew she would never be able to do such a thing.

"Of course you have. I cannot say I'd blame you, given your position in this disaster. So, what do you plan on telling the vicomte, precisely?"

"I'm not going to tell him."

"You will have to eventually, when he returns. He will figure it out, Christine. I don't believe him to be that stupid. You were not with child when he left; I suspect he would know at least that much already. And unless he believes that you magically managed to conceive with him while he was hundreds of miles away, he will find out himself."

She swallowed hard, feeling the tears well up in her eyes once again. She couldn't even look at him... She had known this would all end up to be a huge mistake... She had known. But yet, she had still gone along with it. "You don't have to be so cruel," she whispered, her voice wavering. She had thought she had grown over the past few months, but this was proof that she was still very much a child. Christine feared she would always be a child; would never be able to grow up and face the real world.

"To each his own," he said nonchalantly. "Well, what is it you require from me? It cannot be money, so what is it?"

Christine looked up at him, and mentally cursed that at that precise moment, the tears she had been holding in her eyes decided to fall. "I just thought..." she trailed off; she herself didn't know the answer. She just didn't want to go through it all alone, she supposed. Thinking that he would step up and be some sort of knight in shining armor... That had been more childish than anything before.

"Thought what?" he persisted.

_You can't possibly tell him what you had been thinking... That would be a very stupid thing to do, even for you... _"I don't know," she finished, lamely.

"I suppose that is a sufficient answer. I greatly appreciate you telling me of this joyous truth. She nodded, turning to go, but she had to know...

"Is that what you want Erik?" she asked, her back to him.

"What are you talking about?" he asked dully.

"Is that what you want... For me to miscarry?" He thought a moment before giving his answer.

"It affects me in no way; I will never see the child, as I suppose you would be more fit to raise it. Therefore, the decision lies with you." In truth, he was not fond of the idea of his only possible child being killed before he had a chance at life, but for some reason, he did not want her to know that.

After he had answered her, for some strange reason Christine burst into silent tears. She didn't know why his words were hurting her so much. Over the past few minutes, she had cried more than she ever had since she was a small child. She cursed herself silently as her shoulders began to shake from the sudden burst of sobs. All she could do was stand there, crying, reflecting his words in her head. She was such a little girl, she knew this.

The sight of Christine crying so passionately drew all of the bitterness out of him, if only for now. He walked quickly to her and wrapped his armed protectively around her, drawing her close to her. He laid his bare cheek to her hair. "Christine, do not cry... Please..."

"Please... Don't make me do this alone..." she said through her tears, surprised by her sudden openness.

"I won't... I shall always be here, should you need me," he said soothingly, rubbing her back in an attempt to calm her. Christine buried her face in his chest, the tears wetting his shirt.

"I do need you, Erik..."

Erik was shocked by her answer; happiness, which was alien to him, began to overtake. He tried to force it away, not daring to trust it. "Christine," he said quietly, "I shall help you in any way that I can... I will not force you to do this alone," he confirmed, his tone reassuring and comforting.

Her tears began to slow, but she didn't brake the embrace. "I'm so scared..." she whispered.

"I'm sorry... I'm sure that many young mothers would be..." he said rationally. "Christine, you must conquer this. The child is going to come whether you are frightened or not; as I said, I will help you however I can." He didn't intend to be unsympathetic, but he spoke the truth. Christine felt her tears cease, and she regained rational thought. She had told him that she needed him… That wasn't supposed to happen… She had a husband; she couldn't be doing this anymore… And yet, she did need him, more than anything, but he wasn't supposed to know that.

She pulled out of his embrace, and turned from him, feeling ashamed. Trying to compose herself, Christine wiped her wet cheeks. Her makeup was smeared; she knew she must look a fright. Yet again the gossip would be directed towards her for disappearing from yet another social gathering. Everything was all wrong, she was pregnant with a baby that was not her husband's, everyone in her class thought she was a whore, she had ruined the deChangy name already and she hadn't even been married to Raoul a year; she knew that she was nothing but a spoiled child and nothing would ever be good enough for her or make her happy… So why was it that whenever Erik held her it all felt so right?

Erik watched her, longing to hold the warmth of her body in his arms again. Finally he said, "I suppose you should be getting back then..."

"Do you think... Do you think I could just stay for a bit?"

"Yes, that would be fine... Do you need to lie down?"

"If that would be alright," she said; lately when she stood too long she would get dizzy, but she didn't want to admit weakness to him... She didn't want him to feel the need to take care of her.

He tentatively took her hand in his and lead her to the bedroom. After she had settled herself on the bed, he asked dutifully, "Do you require anything else?"

"No thank you," she said, absently placing her hands on her slightly grown stomach.

He nodded and said, "If you would not mind, I have music to compose."

She nodded, she was only planning on staying until the dizziness passed, but after he had left the room Christine found herself drifting off to sleep.

Erik had lied. Before he was to begin composing, he needed to make a detour. He walked to the kitchen and opened the liquor cabinet, drinking directly from the bottle of scotch. This was all happening too quickly. Never, even in all thought he'd devoted to that night and Christine, had he even considered that Christine would become pregnant by him. The event was unwanted, gratuitous. It had altered Christine in ways he could hardly believe. Once the alcohol had sufficiently subdued him, he took a seat at his organ and tried to compose; however, he found it far too difficult to concentrate at the moment; instead, he rose and walked to the library, sitting down in one of the armchairs. Within a few moments he was asleep, as he had nothing better to do in such a state.

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The alcohol strikes again! Please review :) 


	8. Chapter 8

Hi again; Chels here. Thank you so much for all the reviews... Patience is a virtue, my friends... On with the chap!

Disclaimer: We own none of the charaters of the Phantom of the Opera... Not even Erik, unfortunately for me (this obviously applies to previous chapters as well)

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Chapter 8

A few hours later, Erik woke, a terrible pain in his neck. As the  
effects of the alcohol had worn off, he remembered that Christine had  
been resting in the bedroom. Stiffly, he rose from the chair and walked  
to the bedroom, surprised to see Christine, asleep on the bed.

She looked so perfect and beautiful, lying there on his bed, her dark  
curls spread out on the pillow. Slowly and silently, he approached the  
bed; he stood gazing her upon her for a moment more before lying down  
on the bed, scooting up next to her. He contemplated putting his arm  
around her, unsure with the fear that she might wake up.

Suddenly, he felt like a fool. What was he doing there? How would she react, finding  
him next to her upon her awakening? But there was no way he could go  
back now; he lie still on the bed, remaining as silent as he could.

"Raoul...?" Christine whispered as she felt a body slide up next to her  
in the bed. It had all been a dream. She was back at the estate.  
None of this had ever happened.

Erik stiffened. She thought he was the boy. Well, what had he  
expected her to think? Cursing under his breath, he quickly pulled  
apart from her and rose from the bed sharply. Once more he found  
himself at the liquor cabinet, grabbing a random bottle and taking a  
deep drink from it.

Bitter tears stung his eyes. She'd spoken the boy's name in her  
sleep, just as he knew he often spoke hers. She loved the vicomte; she  
would never love him. Even when he'd poured his soul out to her, she  
turned and run to the open arms of deChangy. When he'd taken her, he'd  
been nothing but a temporary replacement, to satisfy her hungers,  
whilst the one she truly loved was unable to. He'd never be able to  
fill the vicomte's place. He meant nothing to her.

The sudden absence of the warm body next to her stirred Christine from  
her sleep. Slowly, opened her eyes and sat up, surprised to find  
herself in Erik's bedroom. So who was the person who was just lying  
next to her? It must have been her imagination... No... It must have  
been Erik. Had he heard her speak her husband's name? What did he  
think now? Surely, that had been why he had left. She got up from the  
comfortable bed a little reluctantly, and went in search of Erik. She  
found him in the kitchen drinking... It was alcohol, she was certain.  
She stood there, not wanting to disturb him.

By this time, tears where running freely down Erik's cheeks. He knew  
she was there. As embarrassed and upset he was at her finding him in  
such a condition, he knew he could not go on ignoring her.  
"Christine," he managed.

Christine could sense the hurt in his voice. She walked over to him  
and hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. He pulled away from her  
touch, as if it would burn him.

"Leave."

"Erik..."

"Leave, Christine. How much more do you wish to hurt me? Just leave."

"I did not mean to hurt you, Erik..." she whispered, feeling her heart ache as tears  
ran down his face, though she was not sure why. She yearned to kiss  
his tears away... Which was another mystery to her. She longed to wrap  
her arms around his neck and tell him everything was alright. She felt  
like such a horrible person for inflicting this pain upon him.

"I'm sure," he said flatly, doing his best to force the tears to  
cease. "Leave my home. Do not punish yourself by looking at this  
carcass any longer." He turned away from her.

"Erik... Please don't be like this..."

"How else did you expect me to be?" he asked, a slight amount of anger  
entering his tone.

"You could at least try to understand..." she said, feeling the anger  
she had let go come back into her heart, rising to her voice.

"Understand?" he shouted, "What the hell is there to understand? I do  
not understand why you continue to return to me, and deepen my wounds  
each time. You have the vicomte; you love him. Why the hell do you  
need me? Why do you continue to torture me?"  
In spite of his efforts to stop, tears began to fall once more. He  
felt like an utter ass. Christine felt like his words hit her like a  
blow to the face; she felt tears of her own escape from her eyes.

"I've told you time and time again... I do not love Raoul... I love no  
one..." she whispered, wondering why the last phrase felt like such a  
lie.

"That does not answer my question," he retorted impatiently, though he  
was somewhat surprised by her tears.  
She looked down at the ground, unable to come up with an answer. Why  
did she keep returning to him? Why had she in the first place?  
Christine knew that this time it was because she felt the need to be  
saved... Because he had a right to know. But the time before that?  
Closure? Some how that didn't fit... Then what was the real reason?

"I'm waiting, Christine," he said in a dangerously quiet voice.

"I have no answer for you, Erik..."

"Excellent," he said, slightly exasperated. "I think it would be best  
if you took your leave."

"How am I supposed to get back home?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"How the hell should I know? That is your concern." Suddenly, he felt  
himself soften toward her. You are a fool. A damned fool, he thought to  
himself, but that did not stop him from caring about her. "I suppose  
you can stay here the rest of the night... Leave in the morning," he  
said dully.

Christine swallowed, and nodded. "Thank you," she whispered, still  
unable to meet his eyes. He nodded wordlessly.

"I suppose you can go back to sleep," he prompted lamely, after a  
pause.

"Right... Where?" she added, feeling like a fool.

"In the bedroom, damn it; that is the only place to sleep."

"Right... Right... Sorry..." she said hastily, turning and hurrying  
out of the kitchen.

Erik sat at the table, a fresh bottle in his hand. He did not care  
how drunk he got. He needed a release from reality, desperately.  
Christine being in the house had taken away his music; he'd gone to the  
next best thing.

Once she entered his bedroom, she unbuttoned her dress and stepped out  
of it. Only in her chemise, she looked down at her slightly bulging  
stomach, immediately filled with the worry that she had become  
accustomed to once again. She climbed under the blankets of Erik's  
bed, and soon Christine fell into a restless sleep.

He drank an immeasurable amount of liquor; by the end of it all, he  
was quite drunk indeed. There he remained the rest of the night,  
wallowing in self pity, and alcohol, until early in the morning, around  
5:30, he found himself quite hungry. He rose and stumbled around the  
kitchen to find himself something to eat. He hoped Christine would  
wake soon, so he could get her out of the house; he had no desire for  
her to see him this intoxicated, and he knew that he would only drink  
more as the day went on.

Christine woke, unrested, due to a pang of morning sickness. She felt  
nausea consume her and she rose from the bed, not even bothering to  
dress. She hurried into the kitchen where she had heard Erik moving  
about. "Erik?"

"Yes Christine, it is I. What do you want?"

"Where's the bathroom?" she demanded, knowing that she wouldn't able  
to hold her stomach much longer.  
He made a vague gesture towards a partially hidden door.

"Why? What do you need it for?" He was not proud of the garbage that  
was flowing from his mouth, but he could not control it, no matter how  
hard he tried to.

Christine had no time to answer. She clasped a hand over her mouth  
and hurried into the bathroom, spilling the contents of the meal she  
had eaten at the masquerade into the toilet. She leaned against the  
wall, sweat dripping from her forehead, and closed her eyes trying to  
compose herself.  
After a few moments, she rose from the floor and made her way back  
into the kitchen, still feeling the nauseated. She leaned against the  
cool counter and closed her eyes, wiping the sweat from her brow.

"You alright, there?" he asked, taking another swig from the bottle.

She looked over at him, rolling her eyes. "Do I look alright?" she  
asked, surprised by her uncharacteristic sarcasm.

"No," he replied honestly. He remembered what he'd been thinking  
earlier. "You'd better be leaving," he said abruptly.

"Right now?" She was most certainly not ready to leave, not when the  
morning sickness was still taking its toll on her body.

"Soon... You see, I've been drinking a lot over the night. You would  
not want to be in my company while I am like this," he explained.

She raised her eyebrows. "How much did you drink?" He nodded  
towards two empty bottles on the table.

"That much I suppose."

"That is a lot... You must be quite drunk." Christine wasn't exactly  
sure where she had been going with this, she supposed she was just  
talking to get her mind off of the morning sickness.

"I wouldn't doubt that... I was quite depressed last night. What do  
you care?"

She shrugged. "Just... making conversation, I suppose."

"Right." He, finally, replaced the bottle in the cabinet and sat at  
the table. "I'm quite tired."

"You should sleep then."

"I can't."

"Why ever not?"

"You are here."

"Since when do you care about what is polite? I can manage."

"I have manners, you know. I am actually a gentleman; perhaps you  
have failed to notice. And no, you cannot manage. At least not while I  
can offer my help to you."

"Why can't I manage?"

"Christine," he said with a slight laugh. "Please, do not force me to  
explain. You are not even dressed properly, for going out, I mean."

"I want to know what makes you think I can't manage... Humor me."

"Dearest Christine, you are a child. You can manage little by  
yourself. I know this."

She gawked at him. "I can manage many thing by myself."

"Indeed? My darling, let us not discuss this now. Let us speak of  
nice things."

"What nice things are there to speak of?" she said bitterly.

"I'm sure there is something we can find, if we look hard enough...  
How is the vicomte enjoying his fine trip?"

"Yes... He's having a wonderful time," she muttered.

"Well, that's great to hear," he said sarcastically. "Tell me  
Christine, did you enjoy his company while he was here? Did you make  
love to him often?" Christine felt her cheeks grow crimson; she turned  
from him.

"What? Are you embarrassed? I suppose you did, then, and I suppose  
you enjoyed ever moment of it. I suppose you pretended I was him the  
whole time I made love to you; I was doing my very best to please you,  
too."  
She still said nothing; how could she? Christine nervously tucked a  
curl behind her ear and fussed over the hem of her chemise trying to  
distract herself from his words.

"Well, is it true?" he asked loudly.

"No," she said quietly, her back to him.

"No what? I'd think the vicomte would make an excellent lover."

"I did not think of him while I was with you, Erik..."

"Nonetheless, I'm sure he put you into a delightful ecstasy, one that  
he alone could provide," he said mockingly. "I'm sure you made love to  
him each night, sometimes more than once." He no longer cared how she  
felt. Anything to make her uncomfortable, unhappy, embarrassed,  
without inflicting too much pain.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I'm curious. I want to know why he is so superior to me."

"What makes you think he is?"

"You act as if it is so. So I assumed that there must be something  
spectacular about him that no other man could touch. Is that true? Or  
perhaps I'm so horrible, anyone would be better than me. Which is it?"

"Neither," she said, her whisper barely audible.

"Oh? How interesting. Well, since you will not answer any of my  
questions, I will cease my interrogation." Christine turned her head  
to look at him, pain in her eyes; she said nothing.  
"Why do you look so unhappy?"

"How am I supposed to look?"

"Well, you could display any emotion you wish. I am simply asking why  
you are choosing this particular one."

"I have been unhappy for quite some time."

"As have I. Finally, we are the same in some way. Why are you  
unhappy, dearest?"

"My life has not turned out as I thought it would, I suppose."

"That is interesting. Mine has turned out exactly as I thought: I am  
alone, unloved, and unwanted. At the very least, you are loved. You  
have the vicomte... You have me, as well, if that counts. I have no  
one. Be grateful for at least that, Christine."

He had her there; she was speechless. All she could do was gaze at  
him intently, unable to break her stare.

"You see, I am correct. Stop looking at me. It can't be pleasurable."

"You only say such things to get others to agree with you, so you can  
have all the more reason to wallow in your self pity," she said, not  
looking away from him.

"Well, what else have I to do?" he asked in an overly loud voice.

"There are many other things one can occupy their time with..."

"Perhaps that applies to you. Leave me now."

"Why?"

"You have a home. You do not need to stay with me."

"You shouldn't be alone when you've had this much to drink... Who  
knows what you could get yourself into? I am staying until the alcohol  
wears off," she said firmly. In truth, Christine simply did not want  
to go back to their huge, empty estate, only to be alone.

He laughed hardily. "So, you are to be my little nurse?" She rolled  
her eyes, but couldn't help but cracking a smile, as much as she tried  
to hide it.

He felt oddly pleased with himself for making her laugh. It wasn't as  
if it was a new experience; his usually sharp, witty humor often  
delighted others. "As I said before, I feel quite tired. Please take  
me to bed, nurse."

"Come on, you drunken fool," she said, still smiling; taking his hand  
and leading him to the bedroom.

He quite enjoyed the sensation of holding her hand, but he choose not  
to say anything. Once they'd reached the bedroom, he said, "I must  
change now. Leave the room a moment, if you wish, nurse."  
Christine picked up her dress from the wardrobe she had set it on the  
night before, then left the room. After he'd change into his  
nightshirt, he called, "You may reenter nurse, to put me to bed." She  
entered the room, now fully dressed.

"I will do no such thing, Erik. You are perfectly capable of putting  
yourself to bed," she said, smirking at his boldness.

"It is part of your duty," he said with mock sternness.

"Erik, come now..."

"Oh fine, what a boring killjoy you are," he said, sliding into the  
bed.

"Christine," he asked, turning his face into the pillow, "Do you wear  
perfume? I believe I detect a pleasant scent which was not here  
before."

"Yes... But perhaps it was one of your other fine women," she said,  
laying down next to him. He laughed loudly.

"There are, of course, no other women. Only you, my sweet little  
nurse." He watched her as she settled next to him. "That's nice of  
you."

"What's nice of me?"

"To lie with me. That has never happened before. I suspect it is  
quite nice."

"I suppose it is," she said, settling down on her back, placing her  
hands on her abdomen once more.

"Well, you would know." He yawned and closed his eyes. "How long do  
you plan on staying here? I shall be asleep for a good long time,  
quite possibly the whole day."

"I haven't given it much thought really... I can't be sure."

"I see... That is certainly a good answer. Well, good night, or good  
morning. I hope to see you when I wake."

"Sleep well," she said quietly before she too closed her eyes.

"Thank you, you as well, if you plan on sleeping," he responded before  
falling into a very deep sleep.

Christine opened an eye to find him fast asleep. Strangely, she felt  
comfortable and at ease there, lying next to him. She closed her eyes  
once more and soon she too fell asleep.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading... If you like it, please review. 


	9. Chapter 9

Hi again, Chels here. For three reasons, I have decided to post 2 chapters today. First, as a big thank you for all the reviews; second, because this chapter is kind of short; third, in honor of... the first of the month. Right, that sounds good. :) On with the chap!

* * *

Chapter 9

Christine woke a good number of hours later. She opened her eyes groggily, and to her surprise, she found that Erik's arm was around her shoulders, and her head was resting upon his shoulder. It is quite comfortable. That is most definitely beside the point though! How had this happened? she thought, her mind spinning out of control. She did not move, for if she woke Erik, she knew he would be quite angry, so she tried to remain as still as possible.

An hour later, Erik woke to a horrible pounding in his head. He did not open his eyes, not yet. He felt that he was embracing her, his arm around her and her head nestled against his shoulder, her body aligned with his, warming it; how that had happened he'd never know. Whether she was awake or not, he did not know. He had no desire to open his eyes and find out, not yet. Instead, he would lie there and reflect on the hours past. He knew that he'd acted like an utter ass, asking her prying questions, saying whatever foolish thing entered his impaired mind. When he could bare to brood upon it no longer, he opened his eyes and looked down at her.

"Good morning, I suppose..." He loosened his embrace on her, so she could free herself, should she wish to.

"Afternoon... I believe," she said, not moving from the embrace. She told herself it was just because she didn't want to waste the energy, but in her heart she knew that there was another reason she didn't want to admit.

"Perhaps you are correct." He was surprised she had not rolled away from him as soon as she could. "Christine... I must apologize for my brutish behavior yesterday; I was quite intoxicated, you see..."

"I know," she said, surprised by the reassurance and comfort in her voice.

"I had no idea what I was talking about, or doing. I pray you'll forgive me," he continued, tentatively replacing his arm around her shoulders, as it was before.

"I do; it's alright... No harm done."

"I am glad you are so merciful on the matter." He was silent, willing his headache to leave him.

"You shouldn't have drank so much..." she said sympathetically.

"I know that, now. I regret it. But I needed something to... Take my mind off things. I suppose I'll just have to rest the rest of the day; I believe I don't feel well enough to do much else..."

She looked up at him for a moment before clearing her throat. "I guess I should be getting back..." she mumbled, feeling somewhat awkward all the sudden.

"I suppose..." he said quietly, removing his arm from around her.

She got up from the bed, and strangely she felt an odd sadness sweep over her when she thought of leaving. "I'm suppose I didn't bring the best news yesterday..."

"No... It was quite unexpected."

"I know... I wasn't going to tell you... Or anyone for that matter, but I thought... I thought you should know..." she said quietly, looking at her hands.

"Thank you. As I said yesterday, I will be here, if you ever should need me."

"Thank you... And about yesterday... I am sorry I was so dramatic... I just... It's not the best situation to be in," Christine didn't know why she was expressing such sudden openness with him; she guessed she just felt the need to get everything out in the open... She had been keeping her secret for so long.

"I can understand," he replied. "Do you need me to assist you?"

She shook her head. "You rest... I can manage."

"I will... Thank you. Farewell."

"Goodbye, Erik," she said quietly, before turning and exiting the bedroom.

He watched her leave once again, feeling more and more unhappy as the distance between them grew. He heard her depart on the gondola, and his sadness deepened. He wished that she could just stay, and be with him, without any conflict or drama or even close contact. He simply enjoyed her company. He loved her.

As Christine rowed herself out of the lair. When had their relationship become so comforting to her? Just the other evening, there was yelling and hurtful words... Hell, that morning there had been friction between them. While she had slept in his bed next to him, and ended up in his arms something had changed. Not only had he been civil to her when he awoke, he had been understanding. Lovely, even, and strangely when she had risen from the bed, it had filled her with great disappointment... She did not know why. It was not as though they would ever be a perfect little family. Husband and wife. Father, mother, and baby.

No, she was already someone's wife, even if her heart belonged to another. My... heart? Where had that come from? Lately, her thoughts had surprised her. Most certainly her heart did not belong to him... Her heart belonged to no one. She had told herself time and time again, but why did it make her feel a liar? She decided to blame it on the hormones. She was pregnant after all. Pregnant with Erik's baby. Why was it that when she failed to conceive with Raoul, she had felt so relieved and when she had gotten pregnant with Erik's child, it had filled her with a strange sort of… Christine didn't know what to call it… Hope, perhaps? Peace. Even though it was a horrible, horrible situation to be in, little by little she was beginning to accept the baby, even though she didn't all the way at that point. Little by little, the regret was beginning to melt away, and all she could do was hope that things would work out when all was said and done. It was a childish and girlish dream, she knew, that had extremely slim chances of ever happening, but she could pretend…she was quite good at that.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she absentmindedly paid the cabby and climbed into the carriage. Christine reflected on what Erik had said to her while he had been drunk, for she knew that his words had been the truth; the alcohol had allowed him to speak it.


	10. Chapter 10

And another. Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 10 

Six months later, Christine rode in her carriage to the Opera Populaire, a baggy cloak around her pregnant form. As she gazed out at the stormy night, she thought of him. Of Erik. She hadn't been to see him since her last visit, when she was only two months pregnant. It had been too risky to go out in public after her third month of carrying the baby, so she had not. She had sent him letters though, as short as they were, they still counted as something. They had told him that she was alright, as alright as she could be. They had told him about her growing belly; about the baby's movements. About her cravings… Anything she could think of. She didn't know if he had wanted to hear from her, but it didn't really matter. At least she could tell it to someone.

The servants had found out she was with child a little while into the pregnancy; she knew that they sensed it wasn't Raoul's, though they said nothing. She had about one month left before she was to give birth, and it was scaring her to death. She didn't have a crib… she didn't have anything. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She did have some cloth diapers and a baby blanket…but that was all. She wasn't sure of the reason she was going to Erik that night…she just felt that she needed to see him, for some odd reason.

Before long, the carriage had taken her into the city; they were now in front of the opera house. Christine stepped out into the bitterly cold December air, careful not to slip on the wet, stone street. She muttered a 'thank you' to the cabby, before making her way through the passageways she had come to know so well, and to the lake. Thankfully, a gondola was waiting for her there. She boarded the small boat, and smiled as she felt her child move within her. The resentment she had felt towards the baby had faded months ago. With difficulty, she began to row.

Erik's eyes fell on the pile of letters from Christine which were accumulating on his bed side table. He'd read them over and over again, more times than he would ever admit. She appeared to be doing fine, as was the child. With only one month left until she was to give birth, Erik could no longer ignore the unanswered questions concerning the child; such as if he would ever see it, and would it ever know of its true father. These were difficult questions, but he knew that they must be answered. Although the letters had brought him a significant amount of comfort, he missed her desperately, and wondered whether he would see her before the birth or not.

He lie on his bed silently, thinking of her last visit, when he'd held her in his arms, until, suddenly, he heard the approach of the gondola. Quickly, he rose from his bed and ran to greet her (as he knew it was she).

As she reached the shore, she was overcome by emotion at the sight of him... She wasn't sure the reason why. She made to step out of the gondola. Quickly, he rushed to her side to assist her. "Christine," he said happily, but uncertainly.

"Erik... I'm sorry... I'm sorry I didn't come sooner..."

"I forgive you. Really, I was beginning to believe that you would not come at all."

"Of course I was going to come..."

He looked at her and smiled, saying nothing.

She smiled back, taking off her cloak and setting it in the gondola. Without the cloak hiding her, she was visibly pregnant, her large stomach not matching her tiny form.

"You must be wondering why I'm here..." she gave a small laugh, "I'm not really sure my self... I just needed to see you, I guess." He was surprised at this.

"It is nice to be needed," he said quietly.

"Did you get my letters?"

"Yes, I did. Thank you for thinking of me. I appreciated them."

She smiled at him, tucking a curl behind her ear, and placing a hand on her stomach as the baby kicked. "You are welcome..."

"Christine, about the child, and the vicomte... Where is it to live? Are you truly not going to tell the vicomte?" he asked seriously.

Her smile faded... She had been putting off thinking of anything of that sort; she knew she would have to decide sooner or later, but whenever the thought had entered her mind, she had pushed it away. She always told herself that she would think about it tomorrow, and when tomorrow finally came, she put it off to the next day. Christine realized that the day she would have to think about it had finally come, as Erik gazed expectantly at her. She couldn't find her voice. All she could do was look down at her pregnant stomach... She felt horrible; as if she was going to be sick. She cleared her throat. "I... I don't know," Christine whispered.

"I see. As difficult as it may be, these questions must be answered," he said patiently. "As much as you would like to, we cannot simply ignore them... I agree that it is best that the vicomte does not know of it at all, if you wish for him to still see you as his pure wife and love you wholly. Also, I believe you've a right to know that I am contemplating moving into a normal home."

"Erik... What do you want? As far as the baby goes, I mean..."

"What do I want?" he repeated. "That depends on if you want an unexplained child in your and the vicomte's home or not. If you do not, I shall take it. It could live comfortably with me in my future home... I would hire a nurse to take care of it. You could visit it, if you should wish to."

Christine closed her eyes, blinking back tears. She had been crying a lot lately; she blamed it on the hormones, though she knew there were other reasons.

"Why does it have to be like this? So... complicated?"

"I suppose because we made a choice that was obviously not a wise one. Under circumstances such as ours, I don't believe that anything is simple." He fell silent.

"Circumstances have never been simple... I don't regret it, you know."

"You do not regret what we did that night, or you do not regret being with child?" he asked quietly.

"I don't regret either one."

"Truly?" he asked, disbelievingly. "You'd led me to believe differently. Though I'm glad you feel that way; regret is not a favorable thing to have in one's life."

"I regret too many things to regret on something that could turn out so beautifully..." she swallowed hard; merely seeing him had stirred up too many emotions to handle at one time.

He stared at her a moment before speaking. "I do hope it turns out as you wish, though I'm not sure how it will myself. I'd hoped that it would all be fine..." He had not meant to tell her this; he rarely told others such things. "But one can never say," he continued. "Not until it is over," he finished. She looked up at him. Unable to speak, once again. He had a way of doing that to her... Leaving her speechless.

"Would that be fine by you?" he asked finally.

Christine had been lost in her thoughts; she hadn't really heard him. "Would what be?"

"If the child lived with me. I do not want to pressure you, but I would not mind, and I can not imagine how it living with you would work out with everyone happy."

"I don't think there's a way for everyone to be completely happy..." she said sadly, "but I think that it would be best for the child... And for everyone else. I cannot be selfish about something as important as this..."

"Right. I suppose I'd best being looking for a suitable place then... Purchasing furniture, finding help, and the like..."

"Yes."

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen; she drew a quick breath. Not wanting to jump to conclusions at what the pain might indicate, she said nothing.

"What is it?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just..." she started, but couldn't finish because another pain came, more painful than the first. She clutched her pregnant stomach, letting out a small groan.

"It's just what?" he asked, more alarmed.

"I don't know...it's too early for it to be what it feels like, right?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

"In most cases, but it is possible that it is happening now," he said, breaking into a panic, which he quickly hid.

"But... But it's too early!" Another came; she doubled over in pain. "Damn it! Why are they coming so fast... They aren't supposed to be coming this fast!"

"As I said, in some cases they do. You had best lie down," he said coolly, taking her hand in his and leading her to the bedroom.

"You don't know anything about this... Do you?" Christine asked nervously as she laid down on the bed.

"No," he admitted slowly.

"How can you be so calm?" she asked, the last words coming out louder than she had meant them to, as another burst of pain shot through her.

"I really don't know," he said absently. "How long does this go on?" He hated sounding so ignorant, but it was better for him to ask questions and possibly learn the answers, than to be completely lost when the moment finally came.

She ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't know... It can vary... I need to push when you see the baby's head but... It could take many hours."

"And what do I need to do?"

"You need..." she rested her head in her hands as she thought, trying to concentrate. "you need a blanket, and a sterile knife, and... And... hot water and... Towels. Oh, God," she gripped the blanket tightly as a pain came, "This isn't supposed to be happening now!" she said, failing to keep her voice calm; her words came out as a scream.

He nodded and, as a last thought, quickly kissed her hand before departing to gather the materials. He didn't know why he had done that so suddenly, but it just seemed to fit. He hated to see her in such pain.

Christine was surprised by the sudden act of endearment, but it was a pleasant surprise, and somehow it made the pain easier to bear. She threw her head back against the pillows, trying to get as comfortable as she could, but that proved to be impossible, as the baby would not stop moving. She was more worried now than ever; all she cared about was keeping the baby inside of her for as long as possible before pushing it out into the world... She knew it had not been in her womb long enough and the thought that it might be underdeveloped frightened her more than anything ever had in her life.

Erik returned with the necessary materials and set them down on the bed next to her. "I have everything," he said, as much to himself as to her. "This could go on for hours?"

She nodded, "some last up to 24..."

"I'm sorry," he said absently. He could only imagine how much pain she was in. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"Can you... hold my hand?" He was slightly shocked, but quickly complied, taking one of her small hands in both of his.

"I feel like it's my fault... I don't know if..." she trailed off, not wanting to say what horrible thoughts she was thinking, "something happens."

"Something?"

"If... If I give birth and the baby isn't ready."

"Even if that does happens, it would not be your fault. Some things cannot be controlled." He looked down at her hand encased in his, and began to stroke the back of it with his thumb.

"I feel so guilty now..." Christine felt tears she had become so familiar with begin to fall silently down her cheeks. He longed to kiss her and make the tears stop. But instead, he asked, "Guilty because of your husband?"

"Guilty because I regretted the baby in the beginning... I didn't want it... I'm sorry..."

"Do not apologize. You were not expected it; neither of us were. All I need you to do now is try your hardest; just focus, when the time comes. Tell me if it hurts, do whatever you must to make it easier."

Christine looked into his eyes; she couldn't stop herself. She leaned in and kissed him, bringing her free hand to his cheek. Erik had never been more shocked in his life, or more pleased at the same time. He kissed her lips ardently, but softly, squeezing her hand gently.

She had never experienced something more meaningful in her whole life, but had to break the kiss too soon as another contraction racked her body. She pulled away and squeezed her eyes shut, gripping his hand tightly.

He gazed at her, in a slight daze, as she screamed in pain. He wished there was something he could do, but he knew that there was nothing, except for him to simply be there. He glanced down at his hand, which was turning white with the intense pressure from Christine. Strangely, he did not feel the pain.

"I'm so sorry, Christine." He was not only apologizing for her pain... He was not sure what he was apologizing for. He supposed all the wrong things he'd ever done to her in the past.

As the contraction slowed, she took deep, even breaths; she opened her eyes. "What for?"

"Everything, I suppose. For being so contemptuous to you, for putting you in this situation, for lying to you, and stealing away your innocence..." He looked away. He was being honest. He loved her, and had never wanted to hurt her. He had just never known how to express it.

"Erik," she said, her voice soft and comforting. Christine put her hand on his cheek once more, turning his head so he was looking at her, "Erik... I'm fine... You don't need to apologize. I'm alright now..." I'm in love with you, her mind kept urging herself to say. It was surprising to her, to say the least, that she was thinking such thoughts. She wasn't sure when that had happened... When had she turned from the cynical women who would never be happy to this woman? Christine knew she would never figure it out, but somewhere along the way it had happened. He kissed her hand softly.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She smiled softly, gazing into his eyes. Suddenly, she felt wet. She let go of his hand and rose from the bed, alarmed. A puddle of clear liquid was forming on the floor beneath her. Christine covered her face with her hands, feeling helpless. Erik paled slightly, in spite of himself.

"What does that mean, dearest?" he asked, his tone slightly panicked. She peaked out from beneath her hands. "It means that this baby is definitely coming... Tonight, or at least in the morning... I don't know when." He nodded, taking a deep breath.

"We cannot ignore it any longer; it is truly happening," he said thoughtfully.

"You need to take off my dress." Christine would have laughed at the look on his face, if she hadn't been so filled with worry. "It's soaked," she clarified, "I need you to unbutton it."

He nodded, and after she turned on her side, he unbuttoned the back of the dress and helped her out of it, tossing the damp garment onto the ground. He moved his hands to her tense shoulders, massaging them for a moment before helping her turn back onto her back and resuming his position (kneeling by the bed). She held out her hand once again for him to take, feeling another contraction wash over her; she bit her lip. He took her trembling hand in his own, while he prepared himself for the birth, mentally, physically, and emotionally.

"I know this is hard for you," she said, her voice shaking as the contraction began to die down.

"Hard for me?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, hard for you. You have to deliver it."

"If it is difficult for me, it is twice as difficult for you. Are you quite sure there is nothing else I can do?"

Christine shook her head. "If there was, I wouldn't know... I am no doctor..." He nodded and fell silent. He longed to do something more, but she had confirmed that there was nothing else to do, except wait.

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Please review. 


	11. Chapter 11

Hi, it's Holly, the other half of Holly and Chelsey. Yeah, yeah, I know I never do these Author's notes, but Chels is usually the one that takes care of posting the chapters. Just wanted to let you know I DO EXIST:-) Just wanted to let you all know that we're posting a new story soon, so be sure to read it when it goes up! We hope you enjoy this chapter!

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Chapter 11

Hours later, Christine lay on the bed, her thin chemise sticking to her sweaty pregnant body. It wouldn't be long now--she could feel it. She was fed up with the contractions; tired of enduring them hour after hour. Her voice had gone hoarse hours ago from her screaming. Erik was knelt at the end of the bed. "Is it time yet?" she said, exasperated.

He had stayed with her the entire time, watching her pain, feeling helpless, as he could offer no more than a hand to squeeze. The whole night had felt so surreal... This was just supposed to be a simple visit. But nonetheless, their child had decided it was time to come out.

"Because... Erik," she continued, "I don't think I can take much more of this! I need to push!"

"Yes, Christine, it is time. Please push, as hard as you can." Christine obeyed; she pushed until she could not stand to anymore. She collapsed against the pillows, her breathing labored.

"Well done... Again, now, if you please."

With one last push, Christine felt the baby leave her. She collapsed against the pillows of Erik's bed, her skin pale; sweat pouring off of her. She drew ragged, uneven breaths as she closed her eyes and waited for her baby's cries. When they filled the room, she thought them to be the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she made a move to sit, her breaths still labored. She looked down at Erik who was cutting the umbilical cord as he cradled the screaming baby in his arms. Right then, nothing else mattered: not Raoul, or her social status, or her marriage, or her worries that she would be an unfit mother, or what would become of her… of her child… When Raoul returned home… Nothing. Nothing except the sight before her. For the first time since before her father died, she was happy. Truly, truly happy.

A girl. She had given birth to a baby girl. The baby was so small; she could only weigh four to five pounds at the most… But there she was, her face beat red from crying, still bloody from being in her mother's womb, and Christine had never seen anything so beautiful. And the way Erik looked at her as he held her in his arms. She was in love with them. Both of them. She realized it right then and there. Love… It did exist; she had been so stupid to think it had not.

Erik held this new life carefully in his arms; she seemed so fragile, so delicate, he feared she would break. He looked up to Christine as tears of joy filled his eyes. He could not believe that he and she together could create something so pure, so beautiful, so perfect.

He pressed a small kiss to the child's forehead before asking Christine, "Do you want to hold her?"

"Yes..." Christine said, her voice shaking, holding out her arms hesitantly.

Gently, he handed the baby girl to her mother. As a tear rolled down his face, he reflected on what he'd said earlier. About how he had hoped that everything would work out fine in the end. Looking at the woman he loved, holding their daughter, he knew it had. He would not think about their other unsolved problems, not now.

"She's so little..." Christine whispered, holding their daughter close to her chest, not wanting to ever let her go. It came so naturally, holding the baby. She hadn't thought that it would. Tears rolled down her cheeks; she knew that this baby was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life. She had never been as thankful for anything in her life as she was that their baby had been strong enough to survive outside of the womb. Though, Christine felt so sorry that she had been born so early; as tiny as she was, she knew that as long as she was breathing, the baby would be alright, therefore Christine was alright.

Erik watched them a bit longer. "I must clean her off, dear," he said finally. She reluctantly set the baby in his arms. Erik gently cleansed her amazingly soft, pale skin, and cradled her to him lovingly for a moment before passing her once more to Christine, as he knew that she did not want to be separated from her for too long.

"She's so beautiful..." Christine whispered; she still couldn't believe she was hers... theirs.

"I agree. She's among the most beautiful people in the world," he said softly. He knew he sounded daft, but he did not care.

"I think we're a little biased..." she said, looking up at him and smiling. He returned her smile.

"I think that's alright, in this case."

She looked back down at their little girl, whose tears had slowed. "I love you," Christine whispered down at her, kissing her forehead. Erik smiled warmly at the two little women, one of which was partially his.

"Are you tired, or hungry, dear?" he asked after a pause.

"I'm tired but I don't think I'll be sleeping anytime soon," she said, tearing her eyes away from the baby (somewhat reluctantly) to look up at him.

He nodded. "Well, I am quite tired myself," he admitted quietly.

"Then you should sleep."

"I suppose I'll go to the library, then... Goodnight... Call if you need me." He did not wish to intrude upon their precious moment.

"Why are you going to the library?"

"Well, there's hardly room," he said awkwardly, referring to the figurative sense, as the actual bed was quite large.

"You can sleep in your own bed, Erik..." she said, smiling at him and patting the bed.

"I suppose, if that's suitable to you," he said quietly. He swiftly changed into a clean nightshirt and slide under the sheet on the unused side of the bed. Christine looked down at their daughter to find that she had fallen asleep against her chest. Slowly, Christine lowered herself so that she was laying down, the little girl on top of her. They did not have a cradle, so she hoped that this would be suitable; she wasn't really sure. She draped the covers over her and closed her eyes. "Erik?" she whispered, checking to see if he was still awake.

Erik was already half asleep when he thought he heard his name. But he wasn't sure, so he remained silent.

When Christine knew it was safe to say he was asleep, she whispered, "I love you, Erik..." She knew she had never meant to fall for him this hard, but she had; it had just taken her that night and being separated from him for so long for her to realize it.

Erik had heard that loud and clear. He had to fight to strong urge to sit up, to let her know that he had heard, to kiss her lips and hold her. But, sensing that she had more to say, he said nothing.

"I'm dreading when he comes back... I don't want to lose you again... I'm sorry for hurting you, Erik..." she felt tears roll down her cheeks; she knew he was asleep and couldn't hear her, but she had just needed to tell him, even if he would never know her feelings.

Erik's head was spinning. He'd received everything he'd ever truly wished for in one night, both being things that he never thought he'd obtain: love, and a child. He thanked God that he had been awake to hear her confession. He stayed still and silent.

Just then, the baby decided to wake up; she started to bawl unexpectedly. Christine still had tears rolling down her cheeks, and she knew that Erik would be waking... Quickly, she wiped the tears from her eyes, but more started to fall. She cursed herself for being so weepy lately.

Slowly, as if he was just waking up, Erik turned toward the two others in his bed, concealing the joyous smile that was previously on his lips. Christine sat up, clutching the baby to her chest and sushing her softly. "You can go back to sleep, if you want," she said, turning to Erik

"I shall wait for you," he replied.

"I think she's hungry." Christine had been a little nervous about breast feeding; she lowered her chemise and was grateful when their daughter quickly began to nurse without much coaxing on Christine's part. At first she winced as the baby sucked on her tender nipple, but soon became a little more relaxed. She knew it would take her a while to get used to this.

He watched a moment, then turned his gaze away modestly, not wanting to seem animalistic and dirty, and ruin her love for him. You must take more care now. You would not want to lose what has taken so long to gain, he thought to himself.

"I've been thinking of a name for her..."

"Have you come up with one yet, dear?"

"I was thinking Brigitte... It means strength."

"That sounds lovely. What of her middle name?"

"Amelia... Loved."

"Very nice, dearest. A good choice," he said, fighting to contain his joy.

"Thank you," she smiled at him. Brigitte had made her so happy... He had made her so happy. She looked down and realized that Brigitte had finished eating; she covered herself back up.

"Do you want to hold her?"

"Surely," he said, accepting the baby from her. He kissed her tiny forehead, and sang softly to her before she'd fallen back asleep. "Goodnight, Brigitte, my little angel," he whispered, quietly enough that he believed Christine had not heard. He handed the sleeping child back to her tenderly.

Christine smiled at what she had just heard; it had made her think now, more than ever, that he would be a wonderful father. She cuddled the baby close to her, hoping that the familiar feel of her mother's body would help little Brigitte sleep soundly. "I wasn't ready for her to come yet at all..." she whispered, turning to Erik.

"No?" he said, slightly unsure of what to say.

She shook her head "I don't have anything for her... Nothing ready." she was a little worried by this, and unsure of what she was going to do.

"I'm sure you will manage," he said soothingly.

"We will manage." He smiled genuinely at her, slightly overjoyed.

She smiled back. "She makes you happy."

"Yes, quite." he replied. He looked away a moment, and finally asked, "Christine, was it true?"

"Was what true?" she asked, slightly confused. He ignored the question.

"I heard what you said..." he said quietly, meeting her eyes.

"Oh..." she muttered, feeling flustered. "Oh... You don't have to say anything... It's alright."

"What do you mean?" he asked, in disbelief.

"You don't have to tell me you feel the same or anything..." she mumbled, her cheeks growing pink.

"Christine, what the devil are you talking about?" He stared at her face, as a blush crept into it. "Do you not know that I love you?"

She blinked. She certainly hadn't been expecting that. "Wh... What?"

"Christine!" he exclaimed, nearly laughing. "Did you not believe me, that night many months ago, when I told you I loved you? I have told you that I do not say things that I do not mean."

"I know but I thought... I thought... It doesn't matter." She leaned in and kissed him, careful not to disturb the sleeping baby in her arms.

It was the most blissful event of his life, even more so than when they'd had sex. The kiss was filled with love: pure, simple, mutual love. When the kiss broke (though it lasted quite some time), he did not pull his (still masked) face away from hers; he wanted to be as close to her as possible. He kissed both her cheeks, as tears of pure joy and relief began to spill. "Christine, I love you more than anything. How could you possibly believe otherwise?"

"You just seemed so bitter..." Tears of happiness had began to trickle out of her own eyes.

"I know, and I apologize," he said through his tears. "I was trying to make myself forget... I didn't want to, but I knew I must, if I was to go on living even a partially happy existence. But then, you returned to me. I was so taken aback by the horrid timing of it all... I just did not know of another way to react. I am so sorry, my love," he said, caressing her cheek.

"I'm sorry too... I know I hurt you..." She looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

"Yes, but that no longer matters," he said, guiding her chin back to him and kissing her lips softly,

"I love you..." she whispered, her tears flowing freely down her face.

"I love you, Christine. I believe I always have, and I always will. I never stopped."

Christine could think of nothing she could say to express the sheer joy she was feeling right now; she leaned in once more and kissed his lips with all of the passion she had inside of her. Their tears mingled at their locked lips, which only made him cry more. Finally, they each pulled away, and he lie back down, the look in his eyes begging her to join him.

She snuggled close to him, leaning up and kissing his cheek, her lips lingering upon it for a moment, before she rested her head on his chest.

Tentatively, he pulled his mask off before whispering, "Goodnight, Christine, mon amour."

"Goodnight, Erik," she whispered back, before closing her eyes... For the first time since the afternoon she had last been there, she slept peacefully.


	12. Chapter 12

Hello again, Chels here. Apologies for the delay in updating... a friend of mine has been visiting and I've been a bit busy. Thank you so much for the reviews... we truly appreciate them. On with the chap!

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Chapter 12

The next morning, Erik awoke with his arm around a sleeping Christine, who was cradling their child in her arms. He kissed the top of her head gently, smiling to himself. He could hardly believe how happy he'd grown in one evening.

Christine slowly opened her eyes, and smiled up at him. "Good morning," she whispered groggily.

"Good morning, mon cherie. I apologize for waking you."

"It's quite alright."

Everything seemed so perfect to Christine. This was how it was supposed to be. It would end though, she knew. It could have been this way forever if she had made a different choice... The right choice.

He was silent for a moment, absorbed in thought. Finally, his voice quiet, he asked, "Do you desire anything to eat?" She shook her head.

"I want to stay like this," she whispered, closing her eyes. He kissed her cheek gently.

"I'm afraid we cannot..." he said quietly. His thoughts had turned to the months ahead. He knew she would have to return to Raoul... They could not be together. Even if she loved him, they would never be able to act on it, at least not as most couples do. He held her closer to him slightly, not wanting to ever let her go. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, cherie..."

"Erik... Tell me," Christine said comfortingly. She could tell something was wrong, even if he denied it. He was silent a moment longer before replying.

"It is simply that I thinking about the fact that you will not be able to stay with us... You will have to return to the boy... We, our family, will be separated."

"I don't have to, you know, I could... I could stay..."

"No, darling, that would not be wise."

"Why?" she whispered, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "I could leave him..."

"No... You cannot... You must live on, as if nothing has changed... He must never know of... us."

"Why not! I love you... That's supposed to be all that matters." She sat up, her tears now flowing freely from her eyes, forgetting that she held Brigitte in her arms, who woke and began to cry.

"Christine, please... Trust me, my love. It would only destroy young lives, and young love, if you told him of all this. You would not want to hurt him... Your life would not be happy with me. You will be happy with him." Telling her these things hurt him in a way he could not describe. But at the same time, he knew everything he said was true.

"You don't know that, Erik!" she sobbed. "You don't mean what you're saying!"

"Yes, darling, I do. I only wish for what is best for you. You belong in a place where others can admire your beauty, and talent. If you stayed with me, that could never be. You'd always be hidden away. You do not deserve that." Christine shook her head with disbelief as she tried to comfort crying baby. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. How could he declare his love for her and then push her away? He had seen how unhappy she had been when she had first come back to him... How could he send her back to something that had made her that way?

"You must try to understand... You may not now, but you shall see, you will be happier this way. If you stay with me, you will have to live with guilt, regret... You would not be content, not with me. I will miss you... You will take my soul when you leave... But it must be this way..."

"I don't understand, Erik! I can't! Why are you doing this!" Erik felt a tear slip from his eye.

"Christine, please, just trust me... You deserve a normal life. You would not want to hurt the boy... I will never forget you, you will never forget me, I hope. We have our memories, we have our love, we have our little girl..." Most of the things he said now were his exact thinking on that night many months ago when they'd shared their first kiss. Only now, it seemed much harder to say goodbye.

She shook her head, "Don't do this..."

"I must, you must... Please get dressed... Your servants will be missing you by now." Silently, she handed him a crying Brigitte, and began to put on her dress. Her sadness had turned to just feeling... numb. She felt hallow inside. Had this been his plan all along? Had he simply told her he loved her just to push her away? To make her pay for what she had done to him before? Was this his way of getting back at her? She had let all of her walls down, and had finally been just her. She had admitted she loved him... This is what she got, she supposed, for letting her guard down... For letting herself believe she wouldn't get hurt. Silent tears rolled down his cheek. He had not intended to hurt her... If she was hurt, then he was suffering at least twice the amount of pain. But he knew this could not come without pain. A thought entered his mind.

"Christine," he said quietly. "I haven't anything to take care of her."

"Neither do I."

"I suppose I'd best make the arrangements... Where do you purchase such thing?" he asked tonelessly. He had not yet told her that he already had purchased a home and property, on the outskirts of the city. He supposed that now would be as opportune time as any to disclose this to her. "Christine... I have a house. I can move into it at anytime. The rooms are prepared as far as walls and carpeting is concerned... All I've left to do is purchase the furniture and such..."

"Oh." That was all she could think to say. This was all happening too fast. She had found love and happiness just last night... And now her heart was broken... Shattered. She felt no happiness; she felt nothing... Just... empty.

"Yes, so over the next few months I will be making the transition... I shall be busy... Do you believe that you can allow Brigitte to live in your and the vicomte's home until I am ready to settle in with her?" He paused. "She will still need to nurse, in any case."

"Allow her to live in my house? Do you think I'm that cold? That I would be repulsed by my daughter living in my own home?"

"No," he said patiently. "I would just believe that it would be difficult to have an infant in your home, with servants and such to hear and see..."

"It doesn't matter... They figured out that I was pregnant a long while ago..." Christine said in a cold voice that didn't sound like her own.

"Yes, I suppose they would," he replied, ignoring her tone. "So it would be fine?"

"It would."

He nodded. "I shall send for you both when the house is sufficiently prepared." Erik knew how much she was hurting right now, for she had done the same thing to him. After he'd opened his heart and soul to her, she'd left him. And now he was doing the same thing to her. He knew that it was not fair, but he was doing it for her own well-being. Did that count for anything?

"So this is what it feels like..." Christine whispered, feeling her tears begin to fall again. He made no response; he could not even meet her eyes, for once. He hated hurting her so much. Christine felt the tears turn to sobs once again. She sat down on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands as her shoulders shook.

Cradling the baby in one arm, he sat next to Christine and wrapped his free arm around her shoulder as she wept. In spite of herself, she leaned into him, burying her head in his chest. He rubbed her back and kissed her gently on the head. He wished he could absorb her pain... But he knew that it must be this way, even though neither of them wanted it.

"Why does it have to be this way?" she whispered through her years.

"What is right is not always easy to bare... Be strong, Christine." He longed to say something more, but each time he tried, the words never came out correctly. He continued to comfort her silently.

"... But I need you..."

As his tears began to fall once again, he whispered, "Christine. I will always be with you. I will never leave you. Please trust me. I love you. I will never leave you." Christine couldn't find her voice as her body shook as she began to cry harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him as if if she let go he would be gone. He held her and the baby as well as he could, whispering, "It will all be fine. You will be fine," into Christine's ear.

Lies. What he was telling her... They were all lies to Christine. She couldn't be without him... Not after all that had happened; all they had been through. His whispers in her ear... Knowing that he was trying to be strong... only made her cry harder. Only made her need him more. She knew that without him she would live... she would be alive... But her soul... Her heart... they would die. She clung to him, hoping that this was all a very vivid dream, and that soon she would wake up in his arms and everything would be alright.

He could tell that she did not believe him, perhaps he didn't fully believe himself. But if he kept saying these things, they'd both eventually come to believe them. He did not doubt it would be hard; little in his life had been easy. But he also knew that they would go on. They would not forget, they would never be happy. But they would go on. Soon, Brigitte joined them in their weeping. He looked into Christine's eyes a moment before looking down to the child.

Christine took Brigitte from him, suspecting she was hungry. She looked down at the crying baby and forced a smile as she adjusted her dress to feed her. As the baby ate, Christine quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, forcing herself to relax so her daughter could nurse. Holding her helped ease the aching in her heart, even if it only was a slight bit.

As Christine fed the babe, Erik rose from the bed and stripped off his tear-soaked night shirt and changed into a fresh shirt, jacket, and trousers. He pulled on the mask. To his surprise, he had hardly noticed the absence of it through the whole morning. When he was fully dressed, he turned back to Christine.

"Is she finished?" he asked quietly. She nodded; his mere gaze upon her nearly brought her to tears. She blinked back tears as she readjusted her dress, cradling Brigitte tenderly in her arms. He extended his hand to her to help her rise.

"We must depart."

She took his hand, holding their daughter in one arm, and rose from the bed. She said nothing, not able to find her voice once again. He helped her into the gondola and rowed as if this were any other journey. Finally, they reached the mirror. He opened it, and stepped into the dressing room, once more extending his hand to her.

He held her hand in his as they made their way to the main entrance of the opera house. Thankfully, all the performing were either eating, rehearsing individually, or getting dressed at the moment, and the halls were clear. They stepped outside the opera, and descended the stairs. Erik hailed a carriage for her. As it pulled up to them, he turned to her, looked into her eyes, and said, "Do not forget that I love you. Expect a letter from me in six months, at the least." A tear ran down her cheek.

"I love you," she whispered, before she leaned up, standing on her tiptoes and kissed him, not caring who saw. He cupped her cheek in his hand as the carriage stopped next to them.

"I love you too," he whispered back. He helped her into the carriage, squeezing her hand gently before letting go. He paid the driver generously and told him where to take her, not catching the suspicious stares he was throwing, as Erik's eyes only left Christine's when they absolutely had to. He drove her off, carrying her away from him. He watched them go until after they were out of site. Finally, he hailed his own cab, and left for the shops.

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Please don't hate us for that... all will be better should you all desire iteventually. 


	13. Chapter 13

Chelsey here; oh my goodness, we are so sorry, dear readers, for the apalling lack of attention in our stories of late. But no, we haven't forgotten or died or anything like that, and we promise it won't happen again. Please forgive us. :)

For those of you who are "A Young Widow" fans, that has been updated as well.

As for this chapter, it is rather short, simply transitional, but if you forgive us and review we'll have a longer one up soon.

Without further ado: the chap (finally!).

Chapter 13

_My Dear Christine,_

_I have spent these past 9 months working tirelessly to prepare the new house for myself and our daughter. I pray it will be suitable. I have missed you with all my soul._

_Tomorrow at two o'clock pm, a carriage embossed with a seal bearing the letters "ED" will arrive at your gate. Board it, and it will bring you to my home. Please bring with you any of Brigitte's belongings and other necessary supplies. I count the hours until I can see both of your lovely faces again. Erik_

Christine read the letter, tears in her eyes, as she sat on her bed with Brigitte in her arms. Not a day or night had gone by that she had not thought of him. Brigitte had grown considerably in the past nine months, and was a beautiful baby; she had been the only thing that Christine had lived for the past months. Everyday Christine would keep an eye out for the letter, both dreading it and looking forward to it (simply because she would get to see Erik again), and now it had finally came.

She set Brigitte down in her bassinet as she began to pack her things. "Tomorrow you're going to get to see your Papa again, Brigitte," she said to her daughter, trying to keep cheer in her voice, "Isn't that wonderful?" She retrieved a suitcase from the closet and began to take Brigitte's clothing from the wardrobe. Oh, how she would miss those tiny dresses and little booties. She knew she would simply wither away completely without both her daughter and Erik.

Erik walked around his newly finished home, admiring it and making sure everything was in place for when his two little women arrived the next day. He thanked the gods that he'd had at least this project to occupy himself with while he was separated from them, or else he was sure he would have gone mad. And the finished product was quite impressive, if he said so himself. The kitchen was done in a color scheme of royal blue, and the master bedroom rich shades of black and red.

He climbed the stairs and entered the room. He was quite proud of it and had put much work into it, even if he would have no one to share it with. As he changed, he envisioned the day ahead of him with great excitement and glee. He knew, however, that there was no way it would not end sorrowfully. But he did not want to think of that yet.

His hired help would be arriving the day after Brigitte was to; he'd selected an older woman who would do his cleaning and cooking, and take care of Brigitte when he was entirely too busy to, which he did not believe would be too often. Her name was Annette; she would arrive early each morning and depart after she cooked dinner.

Erik climbed into his bed and tried to calm his mind, which took quite a bit of work, as he was so anxious for the next day. Eventually, though, he fell asleep, dreaming of his family.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Christine watched from her bedroom window the next afternoon as her servants loaded Brigitte's furniture and the trunk which housed her toys and clothes into Erik's carriage. She turned from the window, picking Brigitte up from where she had been sitting on the bed, and begin to make her way to outside.

Soon, she found herself boarding it, and one of her maids handing Brigitte up to her. The carriage soon started to move, and Christine watched out the window as the deChangy estate slowly slipped out of view. Christine found herself wishing it was for good, but she knew it was not. The sad reality of the matter was that she would be saying goodbye to her daughter that day, and to the only man she had ever truly loved. In only a few months, Raoul would be returning again. She would be his wife again.

Erik stood in front of a mirror, making sure he looked acceptable before going downstairs to wait for their arrival.

In a matter of moments, the carriage pulled up, and Christine excited it, the babe in her arms. Erik resisted the urge to throw the door open and run to greet them; instead, he smoothed his hair nervously and placed his hand on the door knob. When the knock came, he waited a moment before opened it.

"Erik," she whispered, hardly able to believe that the day had finally come where she would see him again.

"Christine," he said warmly, drawing her into an embrace. He could hardly believe she was here, in his arms once again. She wrapped an arm around his neck, the other holding Brigitte, tears stinging her eyes. He kissed her cheek gently. "Come, I shall show you the house." Christine reluctantly broke the embrace, stepping into the house.

The first room to be withheld was the grand foyer, the floor done in an expensive cherry hardwood, the walls a most uniquely lovely shade of green. Hanging from the center of the ceiling, above the staircase, was a beautiful gold chandelier. He took her free hand and began to lead her into the hallway to the right, taking her through a portal leading into the kitchen.

After giving her a moment to inspect the room, he lead her to the adjacent dining room. He nodded for her to take a seat in one of the wooden chair, with a plush padded seat. "Would you like anything to drink?" he asked.

"Some wine would be nice," she replied, sitting down, settling Brigitte in her lap.

He nodded, and walked back into the kitchen, returning with a glass of blush wine. He handed it to her and sat down in the chair opposite her, gazing upon her silently. She took a long drink of the wine; she could really use something much stronger, but because of Brigitte, she decided against it. "It's lovely... Your home," she said quietly, meeting his gaze.

"Thank you, darling... I've worked hard on it... Have you been well these past months?"

"I've been getting by," she said, sighing, "Brigitte's made it easier..."

"I am glad... I knew that she would. And the vicomte? When was the last time you heard from him?" Christine smiled sadly; it pained her to think of him.

"Oh... About three weeks ago..."

He nodded. "All is well with him?" he asked dutifully.

"Yes." She looked down at Brigitte who was beginning to nod off. He too looked down at the babe and smiled softly.

"She has grown since I last saw her."

"She has," Christine agreed, "The carriage ride must have taken a lot out of her..."

"Would you like to see her bedroom?" Christine nodded.

He rose from the chair and led her up the stairs, opening the oak wood door on the immediate left to where the stairs emptied out. The room was done completely in a pastel yellow, the carpet so light it was nearly white. There was a soft, plushly padded crib on the far wall; he nodded toward it. She crossed the room setting Brigitte, who had fallen into a fitful sleep, into the crib gently.

"I should like to show you the master bedroom," he said once she'd finished.

"Alright," she said, walking back over to him and taking his hand in hers. He brought it to his lips and kissed it softly as he walked with her down the hall. He opened the door, revealing the bedroom he'd spent so long on. After standing in the doorway a moment, he walked to the bed, sat on the edge of it, and looked up at her, willing her to follow him. She did, crossing the room and sitting next to him

Holding her hand in his lap, he said, "Christine, I know that this cannot be easy for you; it is not easy for me either. The last thing that I wish to do is be apart from you... I want you to know how much I appreciate you doing this..." He kissed her cheek.

She swallowed, feeling a lump begin to form in her throat. "I don't know if I'll be able to..."

"You have come very far already, my love. You cannot turn back now." He cupped her cheek in his hand, and squeezed the one her held gently.

Christine closed her eyes, holding back her tears. She leaned in and met her lips with his. She did not know how she would go on with out him in her life... Without their daughter in her life. She did not know how she would be able to spend a single day without them.

He had missed her kiss, though he had not realized just how much until now. The kiss broke, him keeping his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. His hand traveled from her cheek to her neck to her shoulder, until it finally joined its mate in his lap. Both his hands enclosed hers.

She squeezed his hands gently. "I love you."

"I love you, Christine."

A tear escaped from her eye; she kissed him again with more passion. Tentatively, he slid his tongue into her mouth, amazed that he'd survived this long without her. She met his tongue with her own, leaning into him. She didn't know how she would make it without him. His hands moved to her back, drawing her close to him. He wanted to absorb everything about her, while he still could.

More tears slid down her cheeks, as she took off his jacket. He was mildly surprised at her actions; somehow, he had not imagined today with this included. Nonetheless, he wanted it. His hand ran along the side of her breast, until it rested on her hip.

Christine started to unbutton his shirt as tears continued to flow down her cheeks... She needed him, badly. "I love you, Erik," she whispered.

"I'm so sorry, Christine," he whispered as she pushed the shirt off. He gently turned her and began to unfasten her dress, pressing soft kisses to the back of her neck as he did so.

As he finished, she pushed the dress off of her body, letting it fall to the floor, then turned to him, kissing his lips again. He moved his lips down to her bare neck, pressing many kisses to it as his hands moved to her back and began to undo her corset.

"Oh, Erik," she whispered as he unlaced her corset. She had not planned on this happening, but she needed it, and wanted it... And it felt right. Maybe it would make it easier to let go... But Christine doubted anything would.

He freed her from the garment and tossed it to the ground along with the other discarded clothing, gently cupping her breast, which he could feel quite easily through the chemise, in his hand as he kissed her.

While they kissed, she reached up and gently removed his mask. This time, she didn't feel empty, or used, or regretful, as she had the last time. She felt loved, and in love; like it was meant to be. And that broke Christine's heart more.

He flinched slightly at the loss of the concealment, but he didn't move to stop her. Slowly, he moved his hands to the bottom of the chemise and pulled it over her head, revealing her porcelain skin. He kissed her softly, anywhere that he could.

Christine wrapped her arms around his back, and laid down, pulling him on top of her, her lips meeting his. As his bare chest pressed against hers, he was saddened, knowing that this would be the last time. He slipped off his trousers slowly, not wanting it to end too soon.

Christine kissed his cheek softly; she wanted to take it slow and not let anything pass them too quickly, for she knew this would be the last time she would ever be with him. Tears that had only recently stopped began to fall again. "I love you," she whispered, stroking his back lovingly.

"I love you," he said sincerely. He would never tire of saying it... Today would be the last day that he did. A tear slipped from his eyes as he laid his head gently against her shoulder. "You do know that, don't you?"

"Yes..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

"I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world... Nothing means more to me than you... I'd give my life for you, I would give you anything, if you asked. You were the light in my life when their was only darkness. You're my angel... I love you," he said, as tears began to roll down his cheeks onto her skin. It felt odd to be so open, but he didn't care. She needed to know these things... He needed to tell her.

Her tears picked up pace. Never in her life had someone said such beautiful things to her... Never in her life had someone's words meant so much. She held him close to her as they both wept. "Oh, God... Erik. I love you so much," she wanted to say more, but she couldn't find words to describe how much she loved him... How much she needed him. She didn't know how she would go on without him; he told her that she would, but she just couldn't see it being possible. She needed this man. He had saved her from her solitude, just as she had saved him... He had made her happy again when she never believed she would be. Her heart felt as though it had broken into millions of pieces at the thought that after that night, she would never see him again.

He could say nothing as he cried; instead he pressed a kiss to her shoulder as his answer. He laid his head back down and continued to cry; there was no holding back now. His tears fell freely; his sorrow was too great to contain. It was not fair, to show them everything that could be, only to have it taken away. He'd been correct when he predicted that this would be painful. It was more painful than he could have imagined.

Although this pain was the most difficult thing to bare, she did not regret a minute of the past months. Some of them had been the worst in her life, but she did not regret them, for they had also been the best. And she did not regret falling in love with him, even if their love was only to be ripped away. She did not regret their daughter, for even though she had to leave her, she knew she would grow and love and be loved, even in her absence. She knew that Brigitte would be a better person than she ever had been herself, and knowing these things were enough. She knew Erik would go on without her; she knew he was strong.

She worried for herself though, she worried if she would be strong enough to endure the pain... She did not know if she would be able to make it without them...she needed Erik and Brigitte with every fiber in her being, and although she knew they would be able to go on without her, she did not know if she would be able to without them.

"There will never be a day when I won't think of you," said Erik quietly. Although he had not originally been thinking of it, Christine's first performance came to his mind. He thought of how much they'd been through together... What different things they'd meant to each other over the years. He her teacher, protector, and mentor; she his student and protégé. She was an irreplaceable part of him... He needed her... But he needed to let her go. Eventually his tears ceased. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her, bringing her hand to his lips. "Do not cry, cherie..." he said quietly. He could lie like this forever, though. It gave him an excellent sense of oneness that he knew he would miss terribly...

"I can't leave tomorrow and never look back... I can't go on without you, Erik... I can't go on without her. I need you both so much..."

"I'm sorry..." he repeated, closing his eyes, not able to take seeing the sorrow in hers.

"Why does it have to be this way?"

"It can be no other way... We have made out choices, we cannot go back on them now."

"Yes we can," she whispered, tears flowing freely from her bloodshot eyes. She had not meant to cry this much... She had meant to be strong, but she couldn't seem to stop.

"No, darling," he said gently. He knew that neither of them could turn back now. It was too late. "Dry your tears, my angel. Let us enjoy each other's company while we still can," he continued, rolling off her onto his back, pulling her so her head now rested on his chest. He rubbed her back soothingly as she continued to cry against his skin. Christine raised her head up, cupping his cheek in her hand, and kissed him. She never wanted to leave his embrace... She never wanted that moment to end. She did not know how he could be so strong when she was falling apart; she wished she possessed such strength.

He kissed her nose, her cheeks, her chin, and finally her lips, smiling softly. She smiled back at him slightly, though there was sadness in her eyes. "I love you," she said again; she couldn't seem to tell him enough.

"I love you." He brought her hand to his mouth again and kissed each finger, then the palm; once he'd finished he repeated the same thing on her other hand. He wanted to remember every part of her.

"I've never loved anyone else this way, Erik...I never will love anyone else," she whispered.

"Neither will I, Christine," he breathed. He had thought the exact same thing about her many times before... Hearing her say that about him made him feel more fulfilled and happy than ever before. "Thank you," he added.

"Thank you." She raised he head up from his chest and kissed his lips with passion.

His hands moved to her long hair, stroking it lovingly as he kissed her erotically. He felt his desire begin to grow as he did so. Christine wrapped her arms around his neck. She needed him. She needed him to make love to her; to take away her pain.

He looked into her eyes. "Are you ready, ange?" he asked breathlessly. She nodded and took a deep breath.

"Yes." Christine rolled off of him, laying on her back. He took his position over her and entered her slowly, reveling in the sensation of total completeness one final time. Gazing deeply into her eyes, he began to move slowly, tenderly. Christine felt her pain slowly melt away, if only for the moment, as she moved with him. She leaned up and kissed him, never wanting their time together to end. She knew what they had was rare; she didn't want to let it go.

His pace quickened, his eyes never leaving hers. For a moment, his sorrow was suspended with this act of pure love... He was amazed at how different this was from the first time he had taken her. The purpose of that act had been to satisfy carnal hungers, the purpose of this was to objectify their perfect love for each other.

He felt the most intense pleasure fill him as his release came. He moaned loudly as the let himself lie against her while he tried to regulate his shallow breaths. She too tried to catch her breath as tears spilled from her eyes once again at how whole he had just made her feel. She stroked his back lovingly as he lay against her, his breath warming her skin.

He too began to weep, partially because of how beautiful it had been, and partially because it was the only time they'd ever experience it together. That night when he'd taken her, they had had sex. Tonight they had made love.

Christine wished it had been that beautiful and full of love when they had created Brigitte, but it had not. It had left both of them empty... She had longed for something more afterward; now she knew it was to be love. She had found that love with him, but just as soon as it had come, it was being ripped away. She wished she had realized her love for him sooner, so they could have had more time to enjoy it while they still could, but at least they had had the time that was given to them.

"That was beautiful, cherie... Thank you," he whispered as he pulled out of her slowly and rolled off of her onto his back.

"Erik," she whispered, scooting over to him and resting her head on his chest, "I love you." He wrapped his arms around her, cradling him to her, never wanting to let go.

"I love you, Christine."

"Brigitte will be waking soon," she said, kissing his chest softly.

He nodded. "Let's just stay here, until she does," he replied quietly.

"Okay," she said, closing her eyes and draping an arm across his chest, snuggling closer to him.

As he kissed the top of her head, and closed his eyes, he thought of how wonderful simply being near her felt, and how much he would miss it. He looked forward to the rest of the evening, however. Although it had not been part of the original plan, he knew that she would wish to spend the rest of the evening there. He rather liked the idea. He could hold her like this for the rest of the night.

Christine raised her head up and kissed him gently, savoring how his lips felt against hers. Her kiss was so filled with love and tenderness... She would never know how much it, or she, meant to him. He stroked her back as she snuggled her head against his chest once more. But far too soon, Brigitte's cries could be heard from her bedroom.

"She's up... This is how long she usually sleeps," she told him as she rose from the bed and began to dress. "Two to three hours; she takes her nap at around three," she added, as she exited the room to go get Brigitte from her bedroom.

He too rose. pulled on a robe, and walked downstairs to the kitchen. After throwing together a makeshift dinner of cheese, wine, bread, and some cold cuts (as he had not yet gone to the market to purchase groceries), he returned to the master bedroom and set one of the glasses on the night stand, beginning to drink from the other. Christine soon entered the room, Brigitte in her arms; she sat down on the bed beside him.

"I would guess that you would be hungry," he said gesturing to the plated which he'd set on the bed.

"I am quite hungry," she said, helping herself to some of the food, as Brigitte squirmed in her lap. He smiled, and leaned back against the pillows, suddenly quite fatigued.

"I hope you do not mind, darling." He had no desire to be rude.

"Not at all."

He smiled softly as his thoughts ran through the day so far. He wished that each day could be like the one they'd shared today... Simply being in each other's company... It was most upsetting that they could not.

Hours later, after Christine put Brigitte to bed, she crawled into Erik's bed. It pained her greatly to know that she would never be able to sleep beside him again, after tonight. He wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently as he kissed her forehead.

"Goodnight, my darling," he whispered into her hair.

Erik woke first, Christine following shortly after. They ate breakfast in a somber silence, and Christine kissed Brigitte goodbye, wondering if it would be the last time, before Erik began to escort her out to the waiting carriage. They exchanged goodbyes in front of the carriage. "Erik. . . must it be this way?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, darling. . . please be strong. . ." he said, gathering her into his embrace. He leaned down, his lips meeting hers in a bittersweet kiss.

"I will try. . ." she whispered against his lips, tears filling her eyes.

"Goodbye, darling," he replied, after holding her a few moments more, not wanting to let go, before helping her into the carriage.

"Goodbye. . .Erik," she said through her tears. He did not let go of her hand until the carriage began to move away from the curb.

He watched in desbelief and immense sorrow as the carriage took her out of his life one last time. He had had her for but a day, and now she was gone. . . It was truly over.


	15. A Note to our Readers

A note to our readers--

Please not that this is not the end of our tale.

We have a whole second part written, so please do not dispair.

We shall update upon your command.

Sincerely,

Holl and Chels

(P.S. Young Widow has been updated as well.)


	16. Chapter 15

First of all, a big thank you to all our reviews. We really appreciate them. We may very well have a new story up shortly one that is slightly different from our previous ones, so please be on the lookout. Without further ado, chapter 15.

Chapter Fifteen

Six months had passed since he'd seen her last. Six soulless months. His only reasons to live were his daughter, and his music. Without them, he surely would have died by now. Knowing that Christine loved him as he loved her was no comfort; it only served to torture him further. Their love was perfect. . . Their life together could have been.

He had kept his promise to her by taking excellent care of Brigitte. She was a sweet little baby; already he could tell that she was quite bright. He'd spared nothing to keep her comfortable and amused, including his time. He spent most of his waking moments with her; when he was too busy (which was not very often), Annette, who was quite kind and loving, would tend to her. But as much as he loved her, nothing could fill the void in his heart that was formed when Christine left.

Christine sat in the parlor; dressed in Raoul's favorite dress of hers: a deep blue velvet gown that he had bought for her on their honeymoon. He was due home anytime that afternoon; she knew what he would want from her when he returned, they had been separate for two years after all, and she planned on trying her best to give him what he wanted; she was his wife after all. It did not even matter to her what happened once he returned, for her heart and soul had both emptied long ago. She went through life numb and emotionless now; she had gotten good at lying and acting the way people expected of her; she assumed she could fool Raoul the same way. He believed her to be the same faithful and loving wife she had been when they first married; Christine planned to allow him to keep believing what he wanted.

In a matter of hours, two of the deChagny carriages pulled up to the gate of the estate, one carrying the vicomte, the other his luggage. He disembarked and ran to the front door of the house, a boyish glee filling him at the thought of seeing his Christine again. He knew she'd be pleased to see him as well; he could hardly believe it had been two years since he last saw her.

After entering the house, leaving the door ajar, he shouted, "Christine? I have returned!" Excitement filled his voice.

Christine rose from her chair, plastering a smile on her face, as she hurried to the entrance. "Darling!" she exclaimed, hoping her voice contained enough excitement. He threw his arms around her, lifting her off the ground and spinning her in his arms before kissing her lips.

After setting her to the ground, he exclaimed, "You look lovely. Have you missed me?"

She hoped he would not notice how she had changed physically. Her breasts were larger and softer now, after nine months of breast-feeding, and she no longer had a dancer's body, though she was still quite thin. "Yes, so very much!" she said, false happiness filling her voice, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He smiled. "Come, over lunch we shall discuss what has happened while we were apart." She took his hand in hers.

"Oh, I'm afraid nothing much has happened to me while you were gone. My life was rather drab without you here," she said, at times it scared her, what a good and quick liar she had become.

Later on that evening, Christine stood at the large bay window of their bedroom in her nightgown. She knew what was most likely going to happen that night, but she tried to push those thoughts out of her mind. She was thinking of Erik and Brigitte; they occupied her thoughts most of the time, when she heard Raoul enter the bedroom.

Thinking that she had not heard him, he snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her; kissing her cheek, he whispered, "I have missed you, Christine."

She turned her head to look at him; she had been dreading this for months. "Have you?"

"Very much," he assured her. "I can hardly believe that I have lasted this long without you." He kissed her lips awkwardly before moving his hands tentatively to the fastenings on the back of her nightgown. "May I?"

_No._ "Yes. . . "

He began to loosen the nightgown, at what he believed what a sensuously slow pace. He pushed the gown off her shoulders, leaving her in her chemise. He kissed her arm softly.

In her mind, she saw Erik's face. She couldn't do this. . . She just couldn't. "Darling," she said, trying to find an excuse as to why her husband couldn't have his wife, "I'm sure you're quite tired from your journey. . . Don't you think we should save this for another night?"

He paused a moment, puzzled. _Doesn't she want me?_ he wondered. Finally, he replied, "Yes, I am quite tired, now that you mention it, Lotte. You know me so well," he said, smiling. "Please excuse me," he said, pulling a nightshirt from the wardrobe and walking into the bathroom to change.

Once he had gone, Christine sighed with relief, picking up her discarded nightgown from the floor. She hadn't wanted to hurt him. . . But she just couldn't do it . . . She couldn't do that to Erik, or to herself. But what would happen when he wanted to again? This time Christine had had an excuse, but she wasn't so sure she would be as lucky the next time. Tears stung her eyes, as she climbed into bed, turning on her side, so she was facing away from the bathroom door; she planned to pretend to be asleep when he reentered the room; she didn't think she could face him.

He climbed into the bed next to her; feeling a bit awkward wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close to him. "Goodnight, Lotte. It is good to be home," he whispered, even though he believed her to be asleep.

She tried not to tense up too much at his touch. "Goodnight, darling," she whispered back quietly.

Erik crumpled the newspaper in his hands. On a spontaneous chance, Erik had purchased a copy of the local paper while doing some shopping in the market (he usually cared nothing for the petty current events of the world). Ironically, on the only day he'd ever read a paper since he was a young boy with little else to read, a small article detailing the Vicomte deChagny's grand Arctic exploration had been placed.

_The vicomte has returned safely home, _it finished._ He plans to settle down with his wife in the deChagny Estate now that his adventure is complete. _ Immediately Erik's thoughts turned to Christine. Now, since the boy had returned, the true test of strength would begin.


	17. Chapter 16

Hello, all. Chelsey here. Please excuse the mild lack of spacing between paragraphs in certain places; this feature on the software/browser which I use apparently is not supported by the editor. Instead, a break between a change of setting or point of view will be notated with an 'x'. A break between story content and an author's note will be notated with a series of 'x's. Thank you for your flexibility in this matter, and without further ado, on with the chapter. (P.S. Please check out our two other phics, _The Young Widow_ and _Paradise_.)

Chapter 16

Raoul deChagny was a man, and as a man he had desires. As much as he respected and loved Christine, he could not go on much longer without physical love... She had never refused him before... She had been acting so different lately; he did not know what the problem was, and therefore he could not remedy it. But nonetheless he tried. He purchased her many new gowns and pairs of shoes, taking her on walks in the park, lunch at cafes, dinner at fine, expensive restaurants, complementing her often. She thanked him politely each time, but still, her overall demeanor did not change. She seemed so sad and distant, which hurt him. He'd thought that, since he was returning after so long, she would be happy and cheerful. But that was simply not the case. At this rate, he wondered if they would ever have children; if he would ever have an heir. He planned to try again tonight.

He exited his study and began the trek to the master bedroom, where he knew Christine was. He opened the door and found her lying on the bed in her nightclothes, gazing out the window.

"What is wrong, dearest?" he asked, sitting on the bed next to her.

She snapped out of her thoughts. She had been thinking of Brigitte, who was turning one year and three months old today; it was not an actual birthday, but it still saddened her that she was not in Erik's home with them both, watching her daughter grow from a baby to a young child.

"Nothing," she said, turning her head so she was looking at him; she managed a small smile. He lie down on the bed next to her, turning her so she faced him. He kissed her lips and gently cupped her breast.

"Christine," he whispered. "I have waited far too long for this."

Christine squeezed her eyes shut. "Raoul... Not tonight..."

"Christine," he hissed, "You know that you want this as much as I do." He felt he was doing a good job of being seductive, despite the fact that he'd never tried this before; never had he had to. She'd always came to him willingly.

"Raoul," she said more firmly, "I said not tonight... It's been a long day and I'm just not up to it."

"Christine, what is wrong with you? You always wanted me before..." He trailed off thoughtfully. "It has to do with him, doesn't it?" he asked, his gaze on her venomous.

"Wh... What? Who?" But, Christine, of course, knew who he was talking about right away, for he had been on her mind for quite sometime now.

"You know who. The Phantom."

"He has a name, you know." Shit. You weren't supposed to say that.

"Oh really?" he asked, with mock friendly interest. "And what, pray tell, is it? And how did you come about this valuable piece of information?"

She looked down at her hands, folded on her lap, feeling tears she had come to know so well come to her eyes. "Erik," she whispered.

"Erik," he repeated, a rare hatred in his tone. "Well Christine, I must make you forget Erik, mustn't I?" With that, he turned her roughly and began to undo her nightgown; eventually he ripped it open, too dazed with lust and anger to bring himself to focus on the small ribbons and buttons. Something within him had snapped; he suddenly harbored a rage and a lust so intense he could not hide it any longer.

"Raoul, what the hell are you doing?" she said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

"I told you, dear, I am helping you forget Erik. I'm sure you will enjoy it just as much as I will." He turned her on her back, positioning himself over her, ripped off the chemise. His eyes feasted upon her body. Roughly, he drew a nipple into his mouth and pressed his hand to her sex. "Ah, so you do want me," he growled as she grew wet.

"Stop it," she murmured, "Please... stop."

He pulled away from her and loosened his belt, pulling his trousers down enough to expose his (rather small) erect member. He positioned himself between her legs.

"Are you ready, Christine?"

"I said stop!" she screamed, trying to push him off of her.

He held her down fast, and looked into her eyes as he made to enter her. The complete, utter fear and hatred that he found in them made him stop short of the terrible deed. He stayed there, frozen, a moment before backing off her; he got off the bed and pulled his trousers up, before kneeling next to the bed.

"Christine..." he whispered.

Tears ran down her cheeks; she turned her away from him. Never in her life had she been so frightened, never in her life had she felt so helpless and vulnerable. Her whole body was shaking uncontrollably. She hated him. She hated him. She had sacrificed so much just to save her husband's heart from breaking as hers had. She had done all of it just so he wouldn't get hurt. She needed to get out, but for some reason she felt she couldn't move from the bed... She was just too frightened.

"Christine," he repeated, "Please forgive me..."

"No," she whispered, finally finding her voice. "No," she said again, her voice growing in volume. "I can't do this anymore! How could you!" she sobbed, getting up from the bed, gathering her torn chemise and nightgown, clutching them to her naked body. "I thought you were a good man," her body shook as she screamed at him, backing away. He rose to his feet.

"I am," he whispered, "I just... lost my head..." He knew there was no way to justify his behavior, but that did not keep him from trying.

"Stay away from me," she whispered, continuing to back away from him, "Don't... Just stop." He stopped following her, but continued pleading.

"Christine, please... We'll just go to bed and forget this ever happened," he finished weakly.

"You honestly think that I will just hop into bed with you after that?" she said, her eyes widening. Her hand found the wardrobe and she opened it, not turning from him, afraid that he would try something again. She found her robe and wrapped it around her, blindly emptying the drawers of her clothing. She grabbed a trunk and stuffed her garments into it. "I'm leaving... Don't try to stop me."

"Christine, no. Where will you go?"

"Why the hell should I tell you? Do not try to play the victim, Vicomte."

Her coldness hurt him; he knew he was powerless to stop him. He sat weakly on the bed as she made for the door.

"I'm sure you can find someone else to satisfy your needs," she said, her voice shaking, before exiting the room, tears running down her cheeks. She didn't know where she was to go; she assumed she would check into an inn in the city, at least until the money she had in her own account was spent. Once that happened, she did not know where she would go, but she would not go back to Raoul, not after tonight.

x

Raoul stared at the door she'd left open long after she'd left. He would find her.

x

Once she had boarded a carriage and was headed into the city, she changed out of her robe and into a chemise and dress. Soon enough, the carriage came to a stop in front of an inn. It was late at night, and the streets of Paris were empty as she got out of the carriage and went into the inn; the cabby bringing her trunk behind her. Thankfully, she had a bit of money in her handbag, and she paid the clerk at the front desk, checking in under her maiden name, then was shown up to her room. It was quite nice, with a double bed and a view that overlooked the city. Soon after she had settled in, she undressed and climbed into the bed, hoping that she would make it through somehow.

x

Erik lie in his own bed, feeling, strangely, that something was amiss, though he could not explain why. He did his best to shrug it off and fall asleep.


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

_Dearest Christine, _

_Do not be surprised that I have found your lodging. I have connections; you know this. Your small account must be running out of money by now; therefore I have granted you access to my account. Either use it, or come home where you belong. I miss you, darling. Please do not abandon me. _

_Your Love, Raoul_

Christine sat on her bed at the inn, reading Raoul's letter. It had been around two weeks since the night she had left him; her account was slowly dwindling. Although it was tempting to accept his money, she knew she had to free herself from him... Even if that meant having no money and no place to go.

Christine was thrown from her thoughts when she heard a sharp knock on the door.

The innkeeper entered the small room. He was a short, slightly overweight, middle-aged man. "Mademoiselle Daae," he said formally.

She rose from the bed, folding the letter back up and placing it on the night stand. "May I help you, monsieur?"

"You are no longer welcome in this inn, as you have failed to pay you rent. You are currently 200 francs in debt.

"Monsieur, I told you to simply take the money out of my account; there was some money in there as of yesterday, I'm sure you just made a mistake..."

"There is no mistake, mademoiselle."

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

"What I'm trying to say is you have to leave," he said shortly.

"Please gather your things and leave as soon as possible." With that, he left the room. Christine's face paled with shock and worry. Absently, she turned and began to gather her things, placing them in the trunk. She had no idea what was to become of her. After packing up her things, she went down to the lobby of the inn.

She knew there was only one place she could go to know, and with that, she stepped out into the rain and hailed a carriage.

x

Erik sat in the parlor, enjoying bourbon and a book in front of the fire. It was raining heavily outside; Brigitte was asleep in her crib and Annette had long since left for home. Suddenly, shortly after thunder sounded, he heard several frantic knocks to the front door. He rose quickly from his seat to answer it; there, on the stoop, stood Christine, soaking wet to her chemise. He thought himself to me in a nightmare; a torturous dreams where her presence mocked him. But no, she was truly here, at his home. "Christine?"

Christine herself could not believe she was there. "Erik," she breathed. Then, remembering the anxiously waiting cabby inside the carriage she said, "Could you pay him? I have no money," she muttered, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"Oh, yes, of course." He ushered her inside and grabbed some money to pay to cabby; he ran down the path to where the driver was waiting, paid him, and rushed back to Christine. "Darling... What are you doing here?" he asked as he took the sight of her in. In spite of himself, he noticed that her breasts had gotten larger than the last time he had noticed, and she looked a bit tired and stressed. Otherwise, she looked the same. He brought his eyes back to hers.

"I left... About two weeks ago, and when I ran out of money... I could think of no where else to go," she said; it was not the full story, but she did not know what he would do if she told him everything.

He took her hand in his and led her back to the parlor, sitting down on the davenport. "Please sit by the fire," he prompted.

She sat down next to him, taking his hand in hers. "I'm sorry that I came so unexpectedly, but as I said, I had no where else to go..."

It is fine... Why did you you leave the vicomte?" he asked gently. As she relived the night she left in her mind, tears came to her eyes. "If I tell you...you have to promise you won't do anything rash..."

"I promise, please tell me..."

Christine took a deep breath before beginning. "The night he came home, he wanted to... make love, but I refused him. I told him it had been a long journey and he was probably tired and... told him to wait until another night. He did. But then, around a week later, he wanted to again... I was trying to go along with it... After all... I'm his wife right?" She let out a mirthless laugh, "but I couldn't go through with it... I told him no... that I was tired; that I didn't feel up to it. He asked me... if it had to do with you.

"He figured it out... He got so angry; He... He... forced himself upon me... Told me that I needed to forget you. I told him to stop; I tried to push him off of me, but I couldn't... Eventually, before he could do anything, he stopped; realized what he was doing... He apologized... but I was so frightened... I had just felt so helpless and... scared, so I left..." she broke off, tears running down her cheeks. He gathered her in an embrace.

"I'm so sorry, darling." That damned boy! They'd gone through so much pain and sacrifice for him... Further more, he'd trusted him to keep Christine safe and happy! And look what he'd gone and done... Erik kissed Christine's head softly, rubbing her back... Still, he found it hard to believe that he was actually seeing her again, that she was in his arms. Suddenly, it struck him that she was soaking wet. "Christine, darling, do you have anything to change into? I don't want you to catch cold." She realized that she had forgotten about her belongings, which were still outside in the pouring rain.

"My trunk is on the porch." He nodded, and pulled apart from her to retrieve the trunk. He pulled it into the foyer, rummaging through it for her until he found a dry chemise and nightgown. "Put these on," he said, handing the clothing to her. "There's a powder room right over there," he added, nodding toward a door next to the fireplace.

She took the garments from him and walked into the powder room. Once she dried off and changed out of her soaked clothes, she felt much better. She pulled her long brown curls into a bun before exiting the room, and walking over to Erik. She took his hands in hers.

"Can I stay?" she asked quietly. Maybe Raoul's actions had been a blessing in disguise; maybe she and Erik could finally be together because of them.

"Yes, of course," he replied. "Come, you must be quite tired." He kissed her hand before leading her upstairs to the bedroom. As she settled into the bed once more, he changed into a nightshirt before joining her. She scooted close to him.

"It was so painful being without you," she whispered.

He opened his arms for her to get closer. "Yes, I know... But you won't have to be anymore..." Although, he was not sure if that was true. He doubted that the vicomte would give up so easily, and she was his wife. Who knew what he might try.

Christine smiled as he wrapped his arms around her, burying her face in the crook of his neck; feeling the warmth of his body against hers brought her great comfort, something she had not felt in far too long.

"How is Brigitte?"

"She is doing well... I'm very pleased with her. Without her, I do not know if I would have survived."

x

Raoul sat in his study, a bottle of scotch in his hand. He was drunk. He's never been drunk before, but he knew he was now. He had a reason to be drunk: Christine, the woman he loved, his wife, had left him. She'd refused to use the accounts, and as far as anyone knew she had left the inn and had not been seen since. He did not know how, but he would find her. Suddenly, a fragment of the night he'd almost had her body flashed in his mind. Erik. The monster's name was Erik. At least he had that. It was not much, but he was sure that it could be useful to him in some way.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Christine woke the following morning, Erik still asleep; his arms wrapped around her waist. She had actually slept that night, unlike the many sleepless nights that she had experienced since Raoul's homecoming. His letter had worried her; she knew that something in him had snapped the night she had refused him, and that frightened her. Who knew what he was capable of... But she forced those thoughts from her mind as best she could; all she wanted to do was enjoy the feel of Erik holding her again.

Erik awoke a few moments after she. He was struck with mild surprise to have Christine in his arms, but very pleased, of course. "Good morning, dearest," he whispered.

"Good morning," she replied, smiling at him. He fell silent, simply enjoying having her in his arms. It felt so right, so natural...

"What do you want to do today, cherie?" he asked finally.

"It's a lovely day... Perhaps we could take Brigitte into the city."

"Christine... You should know that I do not willingly go out in public, like normal people would... I am rather conspicuous." He had never imagined that they would ever do such things, like an average family... He'd always seen himself holding them back. "You two can go, if you like," he added, realizing that he might seem a bit selfish just to keep them home because he could not join them.

"Erik... You need to get out of this house. It wouldn't kill you to go out in public... The streets will be so busy today, anyway," she said reassuringly.

"I do not have good experiences with most other people... Please."

"It's just me and Brigitte... It will be fun."

"How can you know this?" he asked guardedly.

"Just trust me," she said with a smile.

He considered a moment. "Alright," he agreed finally. "We will go... What will we do while we are there?" he asked, slight suspicion in his tone.

"We'll have lunch and go to the market."

Erik could tell that Christine really wanted to do this; he could deny her nothing. He nodded again. "It sounds lovely... I suppose Brigitte will be waking soon."

Christine's face lit up at the mention of their daughter. "Oh, I bet she's grown so much!" She felt horrible that she had not been there for the past few months to be there for her daughter, but she knew that Erik had taken good care of her.

He smiled at her excitement. "Yes, indeed she has.''

"Has she spoken yet?"

"No, not quite yet, darling."

"Has she been sleeping through the night for you?" Christine had so many questions; she couldn't seem to get them all out fast enough... She had missed her daughter and Erik so much... and she often wondered if Brigitte was alright without her there; if she had hurt her by leaving...

"Yes, dearest. She has been very well behaved."

"I'll stop interrogating you now... My apologies."

"It's quite alright," he said with a smile. Slowly, he pulled apart from her and rose from the bed. "I suppose we'd better get dressed."

Christine nodded, and she too rose from the bed. She began rummaging through her trunk for something to wear. When she came across the torn chemise and nightgown from the night that she left Raoul, she nearly burst into tears. How could it be that even now, after she had broken off all contact from him and left, he still haunted her?

Erik changed swiftly into a black suit and placed the mask on his face. When he turned, he found Christine sorting through the many articles of clothing in her trunk, with some difficulty. I suppose that I shall have to purchase a wardrobe for her, he thought, trying to conjure a reason for them to even go to the market. "What is wrong, darling?"

"He bought me these things... To try to get me to sleep with him," she said; she hadn't realized that before. She had thought he was just trying to be a good husband, but she saw it now.

"I am sorry... We can purchase you new gowns, if you wish..." She shook her head.

"It's alright... Really... They're just things..."

He nodded solemnly. "Yes, you are right. I shall go check on Brigitte, then," he said, taking his leave.

Brigitte had been up for quite sometime; was sitting in her crib. When Erik entered the room, she smiled at him, reaching her arms up for him to hold her. Erik picked up his baby girl and kissed her head.

"Good morning, my little angel. Your mama came last night, isn't that exciting? Come, let us go see how she is doing."

Christine had dressed, and was now sitting on the bed, brushing her hair, trying to push the thoughts of Raoul out of her mind and believe that she was truly free of him.

Erik held Brigitte to his side as he opened the door to the bedroom. "Here she is," he announced.

Christine looked up and smiled widely as Erik entered the room with Brigitte in his arms. She shot up from the bed, crossing the room quickly. "Brigitte!" she exclaimed, holding her arms out to take the baby.

After handing Christine the babe, he smiled as the mother and daughter reunited. She held her daughter close to her chest, planting kisses all over her face; tears stinging Christine's eyes. The little girl giggled, holding on to the fabric of her mother's dress.

x

Raoul woke with a terrible pain in his head. Most likely due to you excessive drinking, he thought. He dressed as well as he could, deciding that he needed to take a walk. To clear his head, perhaps.

x

Later that afternoon, Christine held Brigitte to her hip with one arm, and Erik's hand in the other as they walked along the busy Paris streets. It was a beautiful June day, and Christine felt nothing could break her high spirits.

"Darling, where shall we luncheon? Do you know of any nice cafes?" She smiled up at him.

"There's one right down the road." The family made their way to the cafe and took a seat on the patio.

x

The vicomte strode down the street, past some boutiques and a market, thinking of Christine. Would he ever see her again? As he passed a small cafe, he glanced at a family sitting around a small table, conversing and laughing quietly. I will never have that, he thought sulkily. To make matters worse, the woman at the table looked just like Christine.

_Hold on_, thought Raoul confusedly, _That is Christine! And she's with that bastard, too!_ He cursed himself for not noticing the mask sooner. And, most upsetting of all, a baby was perched on Christine's leg. Concealing himself safely in the large crowd, he drew closer to the group. Erik's hand enclosed Christine's; he held it on her thigh as she gazed into his eyes lovingly; he must have said something clever, as she began to laugh. The vicomte flew into a jealous rage. _That filthy bastard!_ he thought. She was his, no one else's. His alone.

x

Christine was so happy; everything was perfect in her life right now. She smiled at Erik as she leaned in and kissed him, squeezing his hand gently.

x

Raoul's rage reached its peak as the monster's mouth touched the lips of his perfect, beautiful Christine. What's more, she had initiated the embrace! He must be controlling her mind again, thought Raoul, trying to be rational. It took every ounce of his willpower not to reveal himself, fly at the couple, strike the bastard dead, and take Christine. _No_, he thought, _Not now. Follow them to his home. Strike later, when you've everything planned._

x

"I love you," she said once the kiss had broken.

x

Raoul froze. _No, no she does not. She loves me. His power must be very strong indeed, to overcome our love_, he thought with a hollow laugh. Even with his reasoning, a lust for blood had been cultivated in him. A lust for blood to flow from another's veins because of him. A lust for Erik's blood.


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Christine entered the bedroom. She had just put Brigitte to bed (she had been quite tired after the big day). The day had indeed been enjoyable to everyone, which thoroughly surprised Erik. Hardly anyone had taken notice of him. In addition, however, they were all quite tired from much walking; they had done some shopping after they ate.

Erik was changing into his nightshirt as Christine entered the room after putting Brigitte in her room.

"Well cherie, you were correct and I was not; I had a nice time today," he said as he pulled the garment over his head. Christine gave him a bright smile.

"I knew you would," she said, as she sat on the bed and began to undo the buttons of her dress. He settled down in the bed and waiting for Christine to finish changing and join him.

x

deChagny gathered his gun and got into a carriage, refusing the services of a driver this night. He had followed the two home earlier that day, and had made sure he knew the way before departing. Now, he was returning to finish off Erik and take Christine home. What he would do with the child, he did not know yet. He kept replaying his plan in his mind (each time it ended, he had made off victoriously with Christine and the child, who had turned out to be his). Finally, he reached the house, grand yet still modest in a way. He parked the carriage and disembarked; he knocked sharply on the front door, pulling his gun from the interior pocket of his jacket.

x

"Who would be knocking on your door at this hour?" Christine said, as she stepped out of the dress, left only in her chemise and began to look through her trunk for a nightgown.

"I do not know..." he said, rising from the bed and pulling on his robe. Partially due to a strange premonition and partially due to habit, he found his punjab lasso at the bottom of the wardrobe and hid it in a pocket of his robe before descending the stairs and opening the front door.

He was not all that surprised to find the Vicomte deChagny standing there. However, we was rather surprised to find a gun cocked at his head, and to hear his name spoken.

"Hello, Erik," hissed Raoul venomously, entering the house and shutting the door behind him

"Who is it, Erik?" Christine called, grabbing her robe and descending the stairs.

"It's only me, dearest," answered Raoul. "Me, your husband." He did not move the gun as he turned his eyes to Christine.

Christine watched, frozen to her place on the stairs, as Raoul's eyes looked over her body, visible through her open robe and thin chemise. "Raoul... What the hell are you doing?"

"What am I doing, dear? Why, I'm saving you from this monster. I know how he controls your mind. I need you; I won't let you stay with him any longer," he replied, as if he was doing her a favor.

"There's no need for violence, darling," Christine said, her words falsely calm, "You may put the gun away now..."

"No, I really don't think that I should. You can't trust his kind, you know."

She cleared her throat, which had gone dry. "Oh, Erik won't do anything... Will you Erik?" Christine was surprised how calm she was being, but she felt that she had no other choice... Raoul had clearly gone mad.

"No, of course not. We shall discuss this rationally, like civilized people do," Erik said smoothly.

"Well, I do not know if you should speak of being civilized," replied Raoul, "but my arm is getting rather tired." He considered it a moment. "Yes, alright... Sit on the couch," he ordered, lowering his hand but not putting the gun away.

Christine slowly backed to the couch, not able to brush her fear away any longer. Erik made to sit down next to her, but Raoul intervened.

"No, that won't due. Stay away from her now, down at the opposite end... There, well done," he said as he took a seat in an armchair.

"What... What do you want?" asked Christine.

"I want you, my darling," he answered, surprised at her question. "I always have. I want you to leave him, and come back with me, who you truly love." Erik felt rage build within him, but he remained silent

"And if I come back with you? What will you expect from me then?"

He chuckled mirthlessly. "Of course, I will want you. All of you, if you know what I imply," he said with an evil grin; Erik fumed. As an afterthought, he added, "And you should be my loving, mild-mannered wife for the rest of our lives."

"If I come... Will you promise to leave him alone, and the child... I assume you know about her... Will you promise to leave her alone as well?"

"Perhaps, but I do not intend to keep that promise. You see, one is not required to keep promises to another who has broken promises in the past. When we were wed, you promised to love me and stay with me forever, and now look what you've gone and done," he said, nodding at Erik.

"And if I refuse?" she asked after a pause.

"Well, dear, things will not be very pretty. I shall have to kill him, which I might very well do in any case, and I shall have to kill you. Your child as well, perhaps. Tell me, when did you find the time to conceive it? When I was away, on my expedition, enjoying myself?

"Erik, I should think you were a gentleman, but now I am not so certain. Taking advantage of a young girl like that is not very admirable," he added.

Erik employed all his self control to keep from pulling out his punjab and wringing the vicomte's neck... But no, now would not be the right moment... He would have to wait, until there was no danger for himself or Christine. The gun was still out, after all.

"I have one final question, Raoul..."

"What is it, dear?"

"If I refuse to give you my body... Will you make me give it to you?"

"I am afraid I have no other option... A man can't wait forever, you know."

"That's what I thought..."

"Well then, what is your choice?"

She looked over at Erik... She knew she had no choice other than to go with Raoul... Erik's life as well as their child's was far more important than her happiness or freedom.

"I will go with you, darling... It has been so horrible to be without you these past few weeks..."

"Christine..." Erik began, trying to protest. But he knew there was no other choice; if she refused, he would kill both of them. This way, at least she and Brigitte had a chance.

"How do I know that you're being honest, my love?" asked the vicomte.

Christine got up from the couch and went over to him, "Oh Raoul, don't you know I love you?" she said, before kissing him. The vicomte's tongue slid greedily into her mouth; Erik struggled as she gave herself to him. I will save you Christine, he promised silently. I will not let you alone with him for long.

Christine nearly gagged as the vicomte's tongue explored her mouth; she opened her eyes and they met Erik's, a tear sliding down her cheek. Luckily the deChagny did not notice; he went on enjoying the kiss, assuming that she was as well. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Erik, he pulled apart from her.

"Come," hissed Raoul, his voice suddenly quite husky, which made Erik want to vomit. "We must return. I suppose he will be fine if I do not kill him," he said, nodding to Erik. Truthfully, he was unsure if he would even have been able to murder Erik, despite the rage he felt for him, simply because he was truly a coward. He wrapped an arm around Christine's waist, pulling her even further from Erik.

"Come, dearest, it is getting late. We do not want to run out of time tonight."

"Right... Of course not," she said, her voice empty of any emotion. "I need to go retrieve my trunk..."

"I shall get it for you," said the vicomte cheerfully, blinded by his victory, "It is upstairs, correct?"

"Yes."

The vicomte tucked the gun into his lapel pocket and ran up the stairs. Watching until he was upstairs, Erik rushed to Christine and pulled her into his arms. Christine clung to him, feeling her calm demeanor slip away.

"Oh, Erik... I'm so sorry. This is all my fault," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.

"Darling, do not despair... Trust me, now." Erik pulled apart from her as the vicomte returned with the trunk, resuming his position on the couch as if he had never moved.

"Say goodbye, darling," ordered Raoul as he opened the front door.

"Goodbye, Erik," Christine said, emptying her voice of emotion once more, as she made for the door.

Erik managed to discreetly blow her a kiss before the vicomte tore her from the house.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Raoul forced Christine into the carriage, stowing her trunk in the back before climbing in beside her and taking hold of the reins.

"We shall have a good time tonight... Forgive me if I am a bit rough."

Christine said nothing, keeping her eyes focused ahead of them. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop him if she wanted Erik and Brigitte to survive. He knew he would have her body that night, and she was powerless to stop it, even if she begged him not to.

x

Erik rose from the davenport, and ran to the bedroom, changing from his nightclothes into shirtsleeves, trousers, a jacket, and a cape. In its folds he hid the lasso. Once he was sure he had everything, he exited the house and boarded a carriage. The vicomte surely was mad if he believed that Erik would let her go again; he was finished with that. After trying to do the "right thing" so many times, he no longer cared. He just wanted to be with Christine. He drove the horses as quickly as they would go, hoping that he would get there in time.

x

Christine and Raoul entered the bedroom. Roughly, he ripped the robe from her body, leaving her in her chemise. He eyed her lustfully a moment before following suite with the rest of her clothing. She stood naked before him. She'd grown supple, more so than the last time he saw her, truly saw her.

"Christine, your turn now. I will not do all this myself."

"I'm afraid you will have to... You're the one who wants this." Slowly, he approached her and stood before her a moment before striking her across the cheek for her impertinence.

"You want this too, darling. Do as I say." Christine clutched where he had hit her, blood beginning to trickle from her cheek.

"You bastard," she whispered, tears of fear and hate gathering in her eyes.

"Those are strong words for the one you love," he replied, as he loosened his belt and pulled his shirt over his head. "Look at me, Christine," he ordered, as he shed the rest of his clothing. His small length had grown hard at the site of her bare body. "Touch me," he barked.

"No," she breathed, backing away from him and making to cover her naked skin. He grabbed her wrist and forced her hand to his manhood, at the same time moving his free hand to her breast and squeezing it roughly.

x

Erik's carriage pulled up at the estate and quickly disembarked his carriage. Knowing that there would not be any servants awake at this hour, he broke entry to the home himself, as quietly as he could. He hoped that he was not too late as he ascended the stairs, searching blindly for the vicomte's bedroom.

x

Christine cried out in pain as he gripped her tender breast. Trying to break free of his hold on her wrist. "Stop," she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Please, Raoul... stop."

"No... We've come too far for that," he said, as he forced her hand to move in rhythm over his length, causing him to emit moans of pleasure.

x

Erik quickly located the master room, feeling thoroughly disgusted and enraged as the vicomte uttered sounds of pleasure.

x

Christine continued to struggle, but knew it was no use. All she could do was continue her useless pleas.

"Stop," she repeated over and over as he forced her to touch him, his hand clutching her breast tighter and tighter as his moans increased in volume.

x

That was enough for Erik. Silently, he entered the room, pulling the lasso from the folds of the cloak. Thankfully, the vicomte's naked back was to him, as Christine knelt before him; she, of course, saw him, but remained silent. He snuck up behind deChagny, who was too absorbed in a delirium of pleasure to notice. Just as he emitted an especially loud moan, Erik threw the punjab around his neck, and began to wring the life out of him.

The feeling of helplessness and total vulnerability had been too much for Christine. She began to weep, backing into a corner, and clutching her knees to her naked chest, as she watched her husband begin to slowly succumb to death. She did not know what to think, or how to feel.

Finally, the vicomte drew his last ragged breath. Erik rushed to Christine, who was kneeling, sobbing, in the corner. "Christine," he whispered. She reached out for him to hold her, unable to speak. He drew her into his arms protectively, stroking her hair and naked back.

"I'm so sorry, darling..." She buried her face in his neck, her tears wetting his shirtsleeves. He held her tenderly a moment, letting her cry, before asking quietly, "Can you stand, my love? I think it would be best it we left this place quickly."

"I don't have any clothes..." she whispered.

He took his cloak off and helped her wrap it around her naked body; even when he averted his gaze he noticed the bruises that the bastard had left on her. He pulled the lasso from around the vicomte's neck, not wanting to leave anything behind, before lifting Christine into his arms and descending the staircase. He set her into the carriage gently, climbed up next to her and setting the carriage off for their home.

"I'm sorry you had to do that..."

"Do what?" he asked as the carriage pulled up to the gate.

"... Kill him."

"Oh. Do not think of that now. It was necessary, for your safety." He got out of the vessel and helped Christine down as she kept the cloak wrapped tightly around her.

"Did you leave Brigitte here alone?" Christine asked tonelessly.

"Yes, dear. I had little choice," he replied, opening the door and lifting her into his arms once again as they descended the stairs. After setting her down in the bedroom, he asked, "Can you get dressed while I check on the baby, darling?"

Christine nodded wordlessly. She was feeling quite strange and empty... Much like the night when she had first been with Erik, but this time it was much worse. She changed into a chemise and nightgown, then laid down on the bed, the events of that night replaying in her mind over and over again.

He returned. "She is fine," he said quietly, swiftly changing into the previously discarded nightshirt and climbing into the bed with her. She said nothing, just continued to stare up at the ceiling above her.

"Goodnight," he whispered, entirely unsure of what to do.

"Do you think that he loved me?" she asked abruptly, not hearing his words.

He was surprised by her question; nonetheless, he considered it thoughtfully. "Not as I do... But I believe he did to some degree, as it was jealousy that drove him to do what he did. Perhaps..." he trailed off, unsure of how to finish. He hoped that satisfied her, as this was quite a delicate topic.

"To think what would have happened if you hadn't come when you did..." she broke off, feeling her tears begin to fall once again.

"But I did come," he replied soothingly, "Do not think of what might have occurred... You will simply make it more painful for yourself."

"I can't help it... All these images keep playing over and over in my head..."

"Darling... I suppose they will, for some time, but they will fade eventually. You must try to forget."

"... And I can't help but wondering if I was getting what I deserved... For being unfaithful..."

"You were not being unfaithful... If you did not love him. You did not deserve such horrible treatment, you never would, no matter what you had done."

She turned on her side to face him. "What happens when they find out what happened?"

"There is no way they could know who... did it," he replied awkwardly, assuming that was what she meant.

"How can you be so sure?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

"How could they?" he asked rationally. "No one was awake... I assure you we were not seen."

"I... I don't know..." Her mind was simply working in overdrive, and her imagination was getting the best of her.

"Darling, you need some rest... I understand if may be hard, but please, try to sleep... Is there anything I can do?"

"Could you just... hold me?"

"Of course..." he said, turning her and drawing her close to him, her back against his stomach. "Goodnight," he whispered into her ear.

"Goodnight." She longed to tell him she loved him, but the words simply could not come to her.

"I love you, Christine."

"I know..." she whispered, tears slipping from her eyes. She felt horrible, but the events that night had somehow made her unable to express her feeling easily...she knew it would be a long time before she would be able to trust fully again—even if it was with Erik.

He was slightly hurt, but he understood (or at least tried to), and settled for that before drifting off to sleep.


	22. Chapter 21

Hi, everyone, Chels here. Just wanted to put in a quick author's note, to thank every one kindly for the reviews, on all of our stories. We really appreciate our readers, and are glad you enjoy our stories.

On with the chap.

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Chapter Twenty-One

Four months had passed since the vicomte's attack on Christine. She' d been so withdrawn, from everyone, even Erik. It hurt him deeply, but he had no idea how to remedy her... Each night he told her he loved her; she never returned the sentiment. Each day he would try to kiss her cheek, or her forehead; she always resisted.

He felt so helpless... At the moment, she was outside playing with Brigitte, one of the few pastimes she actually enjoyed, or allowed herself to. He approached the window in the kitchen which looked out on the lawn and patio, where they were. Christine was laughing and smiling as Brigitte ran about the grass carelessly. Erik wished that Christine could be like that always, but this seemed to be the only time she let herself go. He turned from the window and let himself into his private combination music room and study, which Christine did not know about. He sat at the small piano he'd purchased and began to play.

Christine had seen Erik watching them at the window, but hadn't acknowledged him because she had feared he would come out and tell her he loved her and she would once again be forced to just smile and nod. Of course she felt the same way for him, but since that night all those months ago, she had felt so scared to say those words or open her heart again. She knew she was safe with Erik... She knew he wasn't Raoul... But something inside her felt the constant need to push him away.

She had since devoted her life solely to Brigitte, spending every waking hour with her... It gave her happiness and was one of the only things that made her feel whole again... That night had scarred her more than she let on; it had left her broken. She hoped that she would soon be able to express her feelings to Erik again, for she knew it pained him that she had not. Christine scooped Brigitte up into her arms and carried her back into the house for lunch.

Erik played for an immeasurable amount of time, keeping his thoughts clear of Christine and her detachment from him as long as he could. Finally, he stopped, exhausted and hungry. He made his way into the kitchen and made himself a small lunch with a glass of spiked cider, as Annette was busy cleaning the upstairs. He took it to the patio, not something that he did very often. Erik liked the fall... It was always brisk, but not too cold, the leaves many different hues, making the trees look beautiful and diverse... In such a season long walks seemed most favorable to him; of late he'd been taking many of them, sensing that Christine was mildly uncomfortable by his constant presence in the house.

Once he'd finished his meal, he took his empty dishes into the kitchen and called to Christine (though he way unsure of where she was), "I am going for a walk, dear. I may be gone a while, should you need me." He knew she would not.

Christine had just finished putting Brigitte down for her nap; she exited the nursery, quietly shutting the door behind her. She walked into the kitchen. "I'll come with you," she said, surprised by her own words. She hadn't even had to think about her answer, as she often had to as of lately when it involved him. Maybe she would finally be able to open up to him again... But she doubted it... All she could do was hope. She almost laughed at his shocked expression. Almost. Christine hardly ever laughed, well except when she was with Brigitte. "If that's okay..."

"I suppose," he said cautiously; he turned from her and exited through the front door. He decided to go east, a direction he rarely took on previous walks. "I usually walk to the trees, whichever direction I go," he volunteered, employing the tone one uses with a friendly acquaintance, "Occasionally, I go further. It all depends..."

Once, he'd walked into the thicket of trees, to a large stream, full of rocks and small animals. He'd sat by it for at least an hour, finding it strangely calming; the novelty of a small world teaming at his feet, the occupants unconcerned with anything beyond finding food and mating.

"Oh," she said, rather lamely, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. She felt the urge to take his hand in hers, but didn't act upon it.

"Yes... I find them quite relaxing... Comforting in the thought that I have a nice home to return to, once I'm finished exploring... There is much more to see here than I'd once thought, when I purchased the property." He fell silent, all his idle chitchat material spent; and they had only been walking for five minutes.

"You go on a lot of them lately... Walks I mean."

"Yes... I suppose I have. I find they're a splendid way to pass the time, and sort your thoughts," he rambled. "Where do you want to walk to," he asked after a pause. "I believe there is a brook just beyond those trees, which I find interesting... Or we could just walk to the edge of the trees... Whatever you wish."

"I don't care, your choice," she said, feeling oddly like some sort of schoolgirl with a crush. Soon, she suspected, she would start giggling and blushing and flirting with him with the way things were going.

He nodded, and walked on in silence. The purpose of the walks had been to clear his mind; forget about Christine for a moment, just like with music. Now that she was here, he could not, and he felt a foolish need to impress. To show her how he'd been spending his time without her. But he doubted she'd be greatly influenced by what he was to show her. No matter, he thought. It was her business if she did not enjoy the peace and solitude of the woods as he did. Actually, he was surprised that he enjoyed it so; he'd never counted himself as much of a nature lover. But then, he was a lover of beautiful things, and the woods certainly were beautiful in their own rustic way.

Christine walked quickly behind him as he led her into the woods. "Do you always walk so fast?" she asked, practically having to jog to catch up with him. His long strides did not match those that her small frame permitted, but she found this strangely endearing.

"Yes, this is my normal pace," he replied. "I am sorry, I did not realize you were struggling." He slowed his pace a bit, but in a few moments, he unknowingly returned to the previous one.

"Wait up," she called after him; when she got close enough to him, she grabbed his arm to get him to slow down, not realizing what she was doing.

"Sorry," he said again. "A habit, you know," he added, glancing down at her hand on his arm.

"It's okay," she mumbled, blushing and looking away, as she quickly dropped his arm.

The way he and Christine were acting reminded Erik uncomfortably of Luciana. The awkward looks and sentences, the constant feeling of unexplained tension. He was thankful when they reached the woods. "Do you wish to turn back," he asked, "or continue on? I must tell you I find the scenery quite lovely if we go on."

"Let's keep going."

He nodded in agreement, a small smile dancing across his lips for but a moment as they crossed the threshold from clear, open spaces into the enclosure of the trees. A faint path had been beaten down, from either animals or men who had been here before, which Erik doubted somewhat. Either way, he led Christine to follow it, as he took in the sight of all the wildlife residing in the dense trees and bushes.

"It's beautiful here," Christine said, her lips forming a small smile.

"I am glad you agree." Eventually they reached the stream. "If you do not mind, I'd like to sit here a moment... I have a fondness for watching this..." he said, nodding to the water.

She nodded, sitting down upon the damp earth, a feeling of peace and carfreeness beginning sweeping over her, which had grown unfamiliar to her recently. He joined her and gazed at the stream, occasionally stealing glances at her. He wanted to say something, but he could find no words that would be suitable, so he remained silent.

"Christine," he said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Why... What is... Are you happy here, with me?" he finished finally, unsure of how to voice his true question gently.

She turned her head to look at him, wanting to tell him what she had been feeling, wanting to tell him that it wasn't him it was just... her. Somehow, she couldn't. "I am."

"Then why..." Why do you constantly push me away? Why have you destroyed the comfort we once had together? "Never mind," he muttered.

"Why what?"

"Never mind," he repeated. "Let's go now," he said abruptly. "I'm sure you are tired."

"Why would I be tired?"

"Just... The walk and such," he said, beginning to rise to his feet.

Christine sighed, rising to her feet. She wished he would tell her what he was thinking... But she knew it was only fair, since she hadn't opened up to him in four months.

As the two began to walk out of the woods, a heavy rain began. "Damn it," he cursed under his breath, upset that he had not noticed the overcast sky earlier. Christine began to laugh; it was just too fitting.

"What the devil is so funny?" he asked, though not unkindly.

"It just figures!" she exclaimed through her laughter, as her dress began to get soaked through with rainwater, knowing that she must seem insane.

He nodded with vague understanding. "I'm sorry," he said, as the water drenched them both.

"What for?"

"For allowing you to accompany me... I should have know this was coming."

"Oh... That's alright. No need to apologize," she practically shouted through the heavy rain. It didn't take long for the thin material of her dress to get drenched; it clung to her wet body, though she didn't notice or mind... She found the whole situation highly amusing. He glanced at her, not fully understanding why this was so humorous to her. As he did, however, he noticed how her form was clearly visible through the soaked dress. The site made him feel both aroused and irresponsible at the same time.

Christine noticed his gaze, causing her to blush. She picked up her pace as thunder boomed in the distance. Even so, he still walked faster than her. "We must press on," he urged, "We do not want to get too wet..." he said lamely, averting his eyes reluctantly.

"Right," she said, hurrying to catch up with him. The heavy rain continued, messing his clothing to what he realized might be beyond repair. He stripped his jacket off, as it had become quite a heavy burden with all the water it had absorbed.

Christine nearly stopped in her tracks as he took off his jacket, doing everything in her power to not stare. His shirtsleeves were soaked, clinging to his muscular build. She was glad she was still behind him, as she did not want him to notice her gaze. Christine had not felt this way for quite a while; it was almost alien to her.

Erik felt a pair of eyes on his back, and immediately became self-conscious. He did his best to brush it off as he turned back to her, not breaking his stride, and said, "Do try to keep up. I do not want you to fall ill." She forced herself to look up at his face.

"I'll be fine."

"If you insist," he said, gazing into her eyes a moment before abruptly turning back around. He felt sensations course through him that he had not felt for quite some time... He suddenly felt fully embarrassed.

Christine closed her eyes, turning her face up to the sky; trying to shake the desire that was beginning to fill her body.

Erik pressed on, not daring to look back at her again; not when lust was threatening. He wanted no lust, not now... He knew it would go unsatisfied, so he tried relentlessly to kill it, thinking of anything but her. Thunder sounded somewhere off in the distance. Erik rather liked thunder, and storms, though he was unsure why.

"Erik... What were you going to say back there?" she asked abruptly from behind him. He drew a deep breath.

"You do not really need to know... I advise you to forget it."

"Why won't you just tell me?"

"I was going to ask you why you continue to pull away from me," he exploded, though he kept his tone in check. "It was not as if I was the one who attempted to take you by force... And I do not even ask for sex; just a simple kiss on the cheek." She was silent for a moment.

"I have been trying so hard... You don't understand... You can't even imagine what it's like... How much it hurt me..."

"No, you are right, I cannot," he replied tonelessly. He was reminded of the time Javert had tried to take him; the images played briefly in his mind before he pushed them away.

"I'm sorry that I'm hurting you..."

"Yes," he said, quickening his pace slightly.

This time, Christine didn't try to keep up, allowing herself to fall further behind, an uneasy silence falling between them.

She knew that she was hurting him, and yet she couldn't bring herself to stop; to simply tell him how she felt... She wanted so badly for them to go back to the way they were. Christine wondered if that would ever be possible.

He pressed on as the rain continued to fall, making both of them look a mess. "Damn it," he cursed again, although was unsure exactly why he was suddenly so upset. To make matters worse, there was at least ten minutes left between them and the house.

After what seemed like an eternity, they came up to the house. Erik opened the door and entered the foyer, rainwater soaking into the rug. He began his ascension up the stairs to the bedroom.

Christine followed him into the house and up the stairs. She entered the bathroom and drew herself a hot bath, hoping to get her mind off of her conversation with Erik on their way home. Quickly, she pulled her soaked clothes off of her and climbed into the tub, hoping that Brigitte would sleep for a while longer and cut her bath short.

Seeing as Christine had taken the bathroom before he had a chance, Erik graciously remained in his wet shirtsleeves and trousers. Lying on the bed, he waited patiently for her to finish.

Christine soon heard Brigitte's calls from her room; she quickly drained the tub, and dried off, tying her robe around her before exiting the bathroom and making her way down the hall to tend to her daughter.

Erik rose from the bed and walked into the bathroom; he stripped his wet shirtsleeves and trousers from his damp body as the tub filled with fresh water. He lowered himself down into the tub, letting the soothing heat wash over him,

After he'd soaked in the tub for about 20 minutes, he rose and wrapped a towel around his body. He emptied the bath and walked into the bedroom, searching the wardrobe for a nightshirt. Erik stopped in Brigitte's room on the way downstairs to the parlor.

"The bedroom is free," he told Christine coolly.

Christine looked up from where she was sitting on the ground, playing dolls with Brigitte, matching his cool demeanor with her gaze. Brigitte, innocent to his tone, looked up at him and smiled.

"Hi Papa!" she exclaimed, waving to him excitedly.

"Hello, darling," he replied with a warm smile, breaking the mood.

"Are you having fun?"

"Yes! Mama and I are playing!"

"I'm glad," he said, before turning and opening the door to leave.

After he had gone, Christine stood. "I'm going to go get dressed and start dinner, but you keep playing, alright?" she asked, kissing Brigitte on the forehead.

"Okay, Mama." Christine smiled at her, before exiting the room and going into the bedroom to change.

Erik disappeared once more into his study; sitting down at the organ, he began to play as loudly as he could, not caring who heard. He vented all his frustration into his music.

After changing, Christine went down into the kitchen, and began to cook dinner. She hadn't known there was an organ in this house, so hearing Erik pound upon it had been quite surprising. The opera ghost lives on, she thought as she heated the oven.

Finally, he rose from the instrument and entered the kitchen. "Bonjour," he said to Christine.

"Good evening," she said, her back to him, as she chopped the vegetables with a little more force than she intended. "I wasn't aware there was an organ here."

"There are many things that you are not aware of," he countered, moving closer to her.

"That's a comforting thought." He could not help but chuckle at this.

She glanced up from her cooking, raising an eyebrow at him. "Are you laughing at me?"

"Oh, no..." he said lightly. "Not if you were not trying to be humorous." She shrugged before returning to her chopping.

"Again I apologize for getting you out in the rain," he said nonchalantly.

"You didn't seem to mind too much when we were out there."

He said nothing for a moment. "Well, you did not either. To be frank, you were acting like a complete lunatic." She shrugged again, turning and putting the chopped vegetables into steamer on the stove.

"Do not pretend that you did not enjoy it on other levels as well... I know that you did," he persisted.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"Christine," he said laughingly, shaking his head. After regaining his cool facade, he continued, "There was something deeply erotic about walking in rain today... Do not force me to spell it out for you— I know that you felt the same way."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Would you like some wine?" she asked, glad to change the subject, opening the bottle she had brought up from the cellar earlier.

"Yes, very much so," he replied, ceasing his interrogation. For now. She poured him a glass, then one for herself, taking a deep drink of it. He followed suit, not taking her eyes off of her. He drained half his glass of the robust red wine, letting the warming sensation wash over him.

Christine swallowed the wine, feeling herself relax; she licked the wine left on her lips absently.

Damn her! Was she tantalizing him on purpose? He polished off his glass. "Pour me some more, if you please," he said, handing her the glass.

"Alright..." she refilled the glass and handed it back to him.

"Thank you, mon cher." He raised the glass to her, in a toast, before taking a sip. "So, what is this you are cooking for us to eat?"

"Chicken Cordon Bleu," she said, before taking another swig of her glass.

"That sounds lovely... In fact, that may very well be my favorite meal," he said loudly. Just then, something occurred to him: Christine did not know the first thing about him, which was mildly upsetting.

"Oh really? I think that's the first thing you've ever told me about yourself," she said, sipping on her wine, which was making her feel quite confident suddenly.

"You never ask," he answered simply, hiding his growing semi-sadness. She spoke the truth; he knew very much about her. Watching over her in one way or another for roughly half her life, he'd learned about her preferences and her idiosyncrasies. But she knew none of his.

"Well... Tell me something I don't know then."

"That is a vast topic..."

She leaned over the counter, propping herself up with her elbows. "Start at the beginning then, I suppose."

"Perhaps later, when we are completely sober," he replied, more seriously.

"Are we not?"

"Well, I for one am not drunk, but I will not speak for you."

"Why do you always assume that after a drink, I automatically am drunk?"

"Well, you are rather light, and you do not have very good control over yourself when you do have alcohol. Trust me; I know this," he said with a smirk.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

"I beg to differ."

"Believe what you wish... But do I have to remind you of the night you came to my home, after the gala? Right... Is the dinner almost ready? I am quite famished after our long journey."

"Relatively soon... Will you go get Brigitte ready to eat and bring her down here please?"

"Surely." He left the room and climbed the stairs slowly, soon returning with the babe.

Christine served the dinner, then sat down at the table. He ate his meal slowly, mulling over the evening ahead. Christine wanted to know about him... About his past. That was not a topic he spoke freely of... But he supposed she deserved to know.


	23. Chapter 22

Chels here. . . in this chap, Erik gets a bit long winded, so for those of you who are quite familiar with Kay Erik's history, it may be a bit boring. Hope it doesn't irk too much, though :)

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Chapter Twenty-Two

After Christine finished her meal, she got up from the table and scooped Brigitte up for her highchair to put her to bed. "Say goodnight to Papa, Brigitte," Christine said.

"Goodnight, Papa!" Brigitte exclaimed, waving to him.

"Goodnight, mon petite ange," he replied, blowing her a kiss.

Brigitte giggled and blew him one back as Christine carried her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

He leaned back in his chair once the women had gone, mentally preparing himself for the conversation he knew was coming. He hoped she had forgotten about it, but he doubted she had.

After Christine had finally gotten Brigitte to go to sleep (she had been rather fussy about going down that evening) she went into the bedroom she and Erik shared to ready herself for bed. She changing into her nightgown and pulling on her robe and walked down to the kitchen, where she suspected Erik to be.

He watched her silently, waiting for her to initiate the conversation.

She sat down in the chair across from him. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to..."

"No, I will," he said solemnly.

He began. "I was born in Bosherville, in i forget the year, don't kill me; my mother's name was Madeline... My father, Charles, though he died before I was born. My mother reminded be often that that was a blessing for him, as they had each expected a child as perfect and beautiful as them... My father, and grandfather, were architects; my mother was training to be a singer, but her training ceased when she met my father... She hated me, she told me so... I know she wished that I was dead, that I never was born, or I would die, so she could go on living her life in peace." He paused a moment, unable to meet Christine's eyes.

Christine said nothing... She could not imagine a mother hating their child; she could not fathom what Erik had gone through as a boy. She reached across the table, her hand finding his.

"In place of my mother's love, I received training and guidance from Father Mansart, the priest of the church my mother belonged to. She never let me attend, although I wanted to, I wanted to hear the sung mass... But still, the old priest, whom I was named after as well, by the way, came to our house quite often to give me singing lessons, and religious tutelage. How I hated that house... But she never let me leave it. Besides the priest, my mother's friend, Marie Perrult, showed me the great kindness which my mother lacked... Then there was my tutor, in architecture... I looked up to him with great admiration... He treated me like an equal. And finally, there was... Sasha, my mother's dog.

"I dare say that dog loved me more than my mother did. As a baby, a toddler, when my mother would leave me alone in my room, Sasha would come in, lick away my tears, and let me kiss her... You would not think I would remember such a thing, but I do." He paused once more.

She squeezed his hand, but did not say anything, as to not interrupt his the story of his past that she knew was so hard to tell.

"Then, there was my mask. I never understood why I had to wear it, when no one else did. On my 8th birthday, I asked my mother for a gift, the only one I'd received before from her being my mask. I asked her for two kisses; one for right then, and one to save for later... She refused, she began to cry, protesting. I did not understand why that simple act of affection was so difficult for her to pass to me. I ran to my attic bedroom, staying there until my mother called me down, saying that Marie had arrived. I went downstairs, without my mask on. The two women were shocked, my mother being the first to recover, countering with harsh cruelty as always. I inquired as to why I had to wear a mask... She lost it then, she dragged me upstairs, showed me my face in the mirror. I did not understand; I threw myself at the mirror, believing it was a monster, coming to frighten me. When I woke, Marie was at my bedside, tending to my wounds. Never my mother...

"Several more horrific events followed; I was exorcised by Father Mansart, he and my mother believing me to be possessed by a demon... My mother met a man, who wanted to send me to an asylum, and take her away to Paris and marry her. I began to control her, in ways that I do not even remember... But it did work. After some time, she never went to see the doctor again. Until... One night, an angry mob appeared at our house... I had let Sasha out, and wanted to let her back in, to keep her safe... But the crowd saw me, and started to shout ugly things at me, throwing stones. I shouted back, unable to just stand there and take it. A mistake on my part. Somehow, in the midst of it all, Sasha was killed, her neck broken, and I was stabbed in the side. I ran back into the house, after the mob left, telling my mother to leave me be, that I needed to have a funeral for Sasha. She resisted at first, but finally gave in; I buried her in the yard, and sang my requiem for her.

"That was when the doctor arrived... He tended to my knife wound, not attempted to disguise his vulgar curiosity about me while he did so, however. When they believed me to be asleep, he spoke to my mother, telling her to send me to an asylum once more, telling her they could run off together that very night... They then left the room, and I assumed they were making the arrangements. I got up off the couch, and left. I would not make her suffer on my behalf any longer."

He stopped in his tale once more. "Do you wish to hear more?"

She blinked back the tears in her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat, wanting to be strong for him. "Only if you wish me to know more..."

"I wandered in the woods for the night, and finally fell asleep... When I woke, I found myself in the hands of gypsies... In a matter of days, they had found a cage for me, I was their main attraction. Families would pay just to lay eyes on my hideous face... My "master", Javert... He beat me daily, for not allowing the crowd to see my face, or for not sufficiently entertaining them, or sometimes for no reason at all. Eventually, I persuaded him to allow me to sing at the end of the show... His natural greed made him agree. Slowly, I gained power... Power, and to some extent, respect. Mothers would threaten to send their children to me if they were naughty, even though I was the same age as most of them...

"The camp moved around the continent, until one night we found ourselves in Spain. I contemplated killing myself that night... I ran far from the camp, with a vial of fatal poison in my hand. I was about to drink it, when I noticed a girl, who had followed. On closer examination, I found that her ankle was broken. Once she regained consciousness, we conversed a moment, before I offered to help her up. She quailed from me, screaming... I did not understand how she could treat me as an equal one moment and as a monster the next. I returned to the camp, to my tent. A moment later, Javert... joined me... He spoke of sexual things... and began to unbuckle his belt, and touch me. It was then I understood all the things he'd been hinting at since I arrived... But I did not let him have me... I killed him with his own dagger, burying it to the hilt into his neck... I gathered a few possessions, and left the camp."

Christine's words from their walk home that afternoon came crashing back to her. You don't understand... You can't even imagine what it's like... How much it hurt me... And yet, he could. The same thing had happened to him... Only his situation had been much worse than hers. She felt so ashamed. "Oh, Erik... I'm so sorry about what I said earlier..." she whispered. He continued on, afraid that if he stopped now, he would never be able to finished.

"After a few years of wandering, I found myself in Rome. I believe I was about 13 years old. I was exploring the legendary city, when I ran into a man... Giovanni... He was about 50, perhaps older, perhaps younger... He was a master stone mason; we talked of architecture until the other workers arrived... I told him I must go, but he made me promise to return the next morning. Eventually, he learned that I had no home, and convinced me to stay with him in his home... I became his apprentice, learning how to work the stone... and build. I lived in his spacious cellar, him allowing me to have it anyway I wanted... He respected my privacy, as well, never going down there... I always felt safe, knowing that he dwelled above me.

"We lived in a peaceful relationship... until Luciana. His beautiful daughter. It was so awkward... I suppose I developed a school boy's crush on her, she one on me as well. Giovanni knew, I suppose. He would not have overlooked it. I was indifferent to her... One day, she invaded my privacy, beginning to touch my creations. I told her to leave... She did not until Giovanni ordered her to...

"A few nights after that, the inevitable happened. She confronted me on the balcony, where I was working on repairing Giovanni's bench... She told me to take my mask off... I refused, until Giovanni arrived, and sided with her... I could not believe how he was betraying me, but I listened. I pulled the mask savagely from my face, my rage toward Luciana growing. I advanced on her... She became frightened; frantically she ran from me... She fell from the edge of the balcony... Giovanni and I had been speaking about how, once I finished the bench, I should work on repairing that... We both knew she was dead. I fled, unsure of how to deal with the emotions I was feeling. So I just ran from them...

"During my young adulthood, I worked in Russia, giving singing performances, without my mask... The performances were different than those with the gypsies, but nonetheless humiliating. Then, one day, the daroga, Nadir, came, telling me that the shah had requested my presence in the royal court of Persia. I decided to join him, not wishing to stay in Russia any longer.

"Before going to the shah, we stopped at Nadir's home, where his son, Reza, was waiting to see the "greatest magician in the world". I showed him a trick that I promised was for him alone, that not even the shah would see... Reza's health was failing... He could no longer walk, and his sense of sight was going, as well...

"The next day, we arrived at the royal court... You cannot imagine such a place... So grand, yet so ugly... Teaming with cats, everywhere cats... The shah requested me to entertain the princess, his mother... the real power behind the throne. A more puzzling woman you would never meet... She asked me such odd questions... she asked if I had ever had a woman, if I wanted one... 'I can arranged for you to have one quite easily,' she told me. I refused, too confused was I to fully comprehend her... She asked me to kill for her... saying she wished for amusing deaths. I built the torture chamber then, which seemed to satisfy her...

"All the while, Nadir and I were forming a friendship, but his little boy was dying... I suppose I loved Reza, like a little nephew... But I could not help but feel guilty, as he would always ask where I was over the daroga himself... One day he said he wanted to leave his father, and live with me...

"In the court, however, I was hated... But I did not care. I had begun production on a palace of my own, so disgusted was I with the current Persian architecture... But, after I put on a performance with strong political undertones, my wine was poisoned, with ground glass... Nadir and I thought I would die within a week... I instantly became worried that I would never finish building... But somehow, I survived... At the same time, Reza's condition was unmistakable. He was dying... I told the daroga that... death came in many shades... that Reza could die in a most painful way, or peacefully in his sleep... Nadir allowed me to give him a solution that allowed him to die in his sleep...

"Even with his son ending life peacefully, Nadir had little else to live for... Perhaps that is why he assisted me in leaving Persia... People can fall out of favor quite quickly in Persia, you see, with little reason or notice... The daroga and some eunuchs arrived at my rooms one night... Obviously Nadir and my friendship was not known of to the shah... In any case, Nadir pretended to arrest me, while really he told me what to do to escape safely... And that I did, with all my possessions, as well...

"After we said goodbye, I wandered Europe a few years, returning to my hometown only to find that my mother had died 3 days earlier...

"Finally, I found the Opera Ganier... I became a partner of Charles Ganier, and one of the architects on the opera house itself. It was I who discovered the subterranean lake which I secretly built my house upon...

"When the siege came, I simply could not take anymore... I fled underground... A few years later, the opera house was finished. And you came into my life... I believe you know the rest, dear."

Christine was silent for a few moments. "Thank you... for sharing that with me... I know it was very difficult for you..." she said quietly, still trying to take in all of his words.

"You are welcome. I suppose we should get to bed..."

"Yes, I suppose we should," she said, letting go of his hand and rising from the table; the two of them made their way upstairs. She looked in on Brigitte, who was sound asleep in her crib, before continuing into the bedroom with Erik, and climbing into bed.

He changed slowly into his nightclothes, suddenly feeling exhausted. He slid into the bed and snuffed out the candle which sat on the night stand.

In the darkness, a tear slid down his cheek, though he wasn't entirely sure why... He felt relieved, somewhat, at sharing everything with someone else, but at the same time, melancholy.

"Erik," Christine whispered, searching for his hand in the darkness. He turned away from her, embarrassed.

"Erik," she whispered again, "I love you."

"Thank you," he replied quietly.

Christine lay there speechless. She knew she deserved it though. She turned away from him, saying nothing.

He struggled to stop his foolish tears, taking deeper breaths, until they ceased. He shut his eyes. "Goodnight..."

She said nothing, hoping he would think she was already asleep.

He knew that she could not be asleep already, but he decided not to press her... He did not have the energy to anyway. Relatively quickly, he fell asleep.


End file.
